


The Second Path

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Arrangements [3]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dora Milaje - Freeform, F/M, Family Issues, Jabari, Okoye deserves a better husband, Special Needs Child, and a day off, single dad, the royal baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: “He didn’t deserve you.”"I suppose not. And now he shovels rhino shit in the wildlands and I have a date with a very handsome Jabari man." Okoye gave T'Challa a fierce smile, showing teeth. "Bast has a sense of humor.”“Talk about something that would have once been impossible. Integration is not so bad after all, eh?”"Yes, yes. You gave me the weekend off, you can say you told me so.”“The future is a surprise to us all, General.”She shook her head. "You should write that down. Use it in your autobiography later.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A couple months back, Nyx and I were talking about that scene in Infinity War where T'Challa brings Bucky his new arm, and he very resignedly asks where's the fight, and Okoye is standing in the background with a face like she knows she'll never stop fighting either. Whatever hope she'd had for any other kind of life died in her divorce.
> 
> And then I thought. . . she needs a second husband, in this universe of ours where there IS no Infinity War and generally less misery. So I cooked up one, told Nyx, and dozen chapters later, here we are. 
> 
> I (Olives) have been doing more of the posting lately and I'm way more disorganized than Nyx, but I'm going to try and keep a schedule, and this should post every Sunday.

Over the many centuries, the Dora Milaje had been headed by many great Generals. Each a consummate warrior. Each the very best of her age.

But none of them, Okoye was convinced, had had a job as complicated as hers. When King T’Chaka had gone out into the world, he was the ruler of a tiny, poor African nation that nobody cared about—because it had no useful resources white people wanted, nor did they ask for charity, start genocides, or open their borders for missionaries to come “help” by teaching them about Jesus, disrespect, and smallpox.

T’Challa walked on the world stage now as the ruler of one of the wealthiest and most technologically advanced nations on earth, with a resource everyone wanted and would probably do some very awful things to get. Protecting him was a very different game.

Not just him, either. She was staffing protection details for Wakandan Embassies all over the world, plus outreach centers, one for technology in the United States—not a dangerous location, but since it contained Princess Shuri, it was heavily guarded—and several that had been opened in Africa for social issues. International projects were underway, funding massive infrastructure projects in their neighboring nations that had been so long pillaged and neglected by their colonizers. The royal family and senior officials visited them, and Okoye had to keep them safe.

It was the largest hiring and training spree the Dora had ever gone through. Okoye fought with N’Gani of the War Dogs over talent—women were in high demand over there, too, as their operations also expanded. Arming street gangs in New York and starting a war with the United States would have been a terrible idea. But arming miners in the Congo so they could effectively strike against De Beers was working out much better.

It was a good time to be unbelievably busy. If she didn’t have five minutes to sit, she didn’t have five minutes to contemplate how work was all she had anymore.

She had attended W'Kabi's trial, watched T'Challa strip her husband of his land and titles. The divorce hearing had been straight forward. He had no assets to dither over and he was entitled to none of hers. She did not watch him being loaded into the truck that would take him to his exile. She had meant what she'd told him she would kill him. For Wakanda and what he had tried to do with it she would have run him through and mourned the loss. But she had no deep desire to see him dead.

Let him spend his years at the rough edge of their country, knee deep in goat shit and thinking on his sins. It didn't make her home or bed any less lonely, but it seemed like justice.

She moved, unable to sleep in the same house they had shared. Nakia and the Doras had handled most of the details and she had found herself in a nice, spacious apartment in the Capital, with a view of the jungle and no memories of W'Kabi.

"Perhaps I should get a cat," she said idly to Nakia one day.

“Do you like cats?”

She paused to consider. "I respect cats. They're independent, domesticated on their own terms and give an accept affection only when desired.”

“And what would you be getting from this relationship?”

Nakia knew her too well for her to try to lie. "Another heartbeat in the house.”

“That is a very valid desire,” she said. Nakia got up to get more melon from the fruit tray on the table on the other side of the room. Okoye liked hanging out in the royal residence. There was always good food.

"The hiring and training is slowing down." It had been just over 4 years since T'Challa had opened Wakanda to the world. "It suppose I have more time to think.”

“I think getting yourself some, er, evening company wouldn’t do you harm, either.”

Okoye's brows raised. "Are you telling me to get some?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I am telling you.”

"Such language is unbecoming of a queen.”

She laughed. “Okay, but I am sort of serious. I think you’ve devoted more time to mourning than he deserved.”

"I was not only mourning him. I grieved the life I thought I might have had.”

Nakia sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She lifted a shoulder and stood to go peruse the food. "I thought the cat was a reasonable first step.”

“There is something I wanted to tell you,” Nakia said. “Speaking of heartbeats.”

Okoye turned to look at her. “Oh?"

She grinned back. “I have two of them.”

She gasped, and crossed the room to hug her. "Congratulations! Does His Highness know?”

“Yes,” she replied. “But you are the second person I’m telling.”

"I'm honored." And a little sad. But she would hide that for her friend. "I'm so happy for you both.”

“Thank you. We’ve been getting a lot of hints, and we figured it’s time.”

"Never too early for an heir, they say.”

She chuckled. “Probably not, no.”

She squeezed Nakia's shoulders. "You are happy?”

“I am. Faintly terrified, but happy. T’Challa is thrilled.”

"Well, of course, he doesn't have to push it out.”

The apartment was quiet when Okoye got home. Usually she liked the quiet, but tonight she felt unsettled. It was probably the pending Royal Baby. She was happy they were happy. She and W’Kabi used to talk about how much of a mess T’Challa and Nakia’s relationship was. They felt sorry for them, like two observers smugly sure of their own stability. Funny how times change.

He had not been her first love, but he had been a strong and sure one, for many years. It had been like a lightning strike when she'd met him, introduced by T'Challa. Their first date had lasted for hours, the two of them sitting and talking at a cafe till it closed up. From that moment there had been no one else.

Shaking off the bittersweet memories, she stood at the window, looking out at the city. Maybe Nakia was right. Maybe she needed to get out and heal old wounds with new memories.

Out for drinks with a few of her girls the following week, she mentioned the concept as casually as possible. And immediately had the rapt attention of the four other women at the table. 

“We need to find you a different bar,” Ayo said.

“I like this bar,” Okoye replied. She’d gotten blindingly drunk in it the night of the battle where she’d almost had to kill her husband. There was a fondness now.

“Me too, but it’s full of lesbians and that hasn’t seemed your speed.”

"That's a good point. But finding a new bar is so much work.”

“Maybe we could set you up,” Aneka offered. “I know a straight guy.”

"Just the one?" Ayo asked.

“It’s not exactly my crowd. Oh, wait, we do know a second one. What was his name, that cousin of Nakia’s. Dumb as a post.”

"No," Okoye said firmly. "I've met him. He wouldn't last through appetizers.”

“You could just skip the talking part.”  
"Just make vague gestures until he pulls his pants down for my perusal?”

“I don’t know,” Aneka said. “I’ve lived in an all-woman environment since I was fifteen. I don’t really know how heterosexual people go about mating. Other than when we were in that hotel when the King was in Moscow and the TV was stuck on a channel playing Russian porn.”

“Vague gesturing followed by stripping is about how western porn goes,” Nareema said, because apparently they were all getting in on this.

"It's not generally seen as a how-to menu," Okoye told them, wishing she hadn't mentioned it. But she had mentioned it and there was nothing to do but push to the other side. "What is this lone straight man of your acquaintance like? Staged any coups recently?”

“Not that I know of. He’s my brother’s wife’s brother. He’s Merchant Tribe and they have money.”

"Hmm." Money didn't exactly appeal to her, but one had to start somewhere. "You like him?”

“He’s always very nice to me. Has dogs.”

"I suppose I could give him a try.”

There began what she would later refer to as her Summer of Bad Dates. She let people set her up because that was how Wakandans did things. A relationship that had been started by a mutual friend or family was considered better than one that happened by chance. Though really, throwing darts at a crowd probably would have yielded better results.

Most of the men were very nice, though she did meet one who was aggressively competitive with her, and another that was obsessed with getting to meet the King. But they were all. . .boring. To hell with lightning, there wasn’t even a spark.

"Celibacy is looking very appealing," she told Nakia as they went for a walk in the trees. "Fill my place with cats.”

“Have you considered casual sex?” Nakia asked. “Maybe you just need to get over the hump.” She laughed. “No, I did not mean to make a terrible pun. My brain is foggy.”

"It was always hard for me to trust someone enough to be naked with them. W'Kabi's betrayal did not make me more trusting.”

“That is a good point.” She paused. “So, about that cat?”

"Want to come to the shelter with me?”

“I would _love_ to.”

Of course, going anywhere in public with the now-visibly-pregnant Queen made for a little bit of a spectacle, but the people at the shelter were reasonably well behaved.

Feral cats were tolerated in Wakanda more than in most countries she went to. They were considered the children of Bast and were usually fed and carried for by locals. It was common to have a bowl by the back door to put your dinner scraps and leftovers for any lazy feral looking for a supper. Shelters did try to take in injured or sick cats and kittens and pregnant mamas, to keep populations in check.

Okoye and Nakia wandered the rooms of cat enclosures, some with two or three inside, usually siblings used to each others company. Little signs on the front listed names, ages, and personalities and they were color coded, with words like cuddly, or playful, or feisty.

"Feisty seems like code for 'will pee on your pillow when mad at you,'" she commented to Nakia.

“But could you respect an animal that wouldn’t stand up for itself?”

"Respect doesn't get the cat piss smell out of my pillow.”

“That one is labeled docile,” she offered, pointing.

Okoye was a little concerned that would mean it spent the whole time under the bed, but she didn't want to sound like she was being contrary so she headed over. On the way she passed an enclosure with two black kittens tumbling over each other. She stopped there to watch them play a moment.

"I like these two.”

“The tag said feisty,” Nakia said.

"They're young, they should be feisty." She glanced at the label. “Sisters."

“I’ll go get the lady at the front desk.”

Thank you." She crouched watching them tumble over each other until they noticed her and came over to the glass to sniff. When the shelter worker returned, Okoye was allowed into the enclosure to meet them. Nakia stayed outside, giving her a moment alone.

She sat on the ground in a smooth motion and both kittens came over to sniff her hands and knees. Neither fled when she tried to stroke their heads and backs. One was brave enough to climb onto her leg, pinprick class digging in, and stretched up to touch noses with her when Okoye leaned down. The other watched in awe at her sister's bravery.  
Yes, these two would do just fine.

Before she took them home, she bought a selection of necessary cat supplies, including a fairly hideous climbing structure for them. She’d have to find something better looking. She knew they existed, but this was all the pet store had, and she was eager to get the babies home. She’d missed having animals. Even the rhinos she and W’Kabi had raised.

"Naming things is difficult," she told Okoye as they watched the newcomers explore her apartment.

“It’ll come to you.”

"If T'Challa even attempts to suggest I got the black ones as an homage to him, I trust you will set him straight.”

“On my honor as a queen.”

Okoye nodded. "Thank you for coming with me.”

Nakia bumped her shoulder with her own. “You’re welcome. I think they will do you good. Another heartbeat, as you said.”

"Two, even." Okoye nodded to her friend's stomach. "How is your little heartbeat?”

“Looking good on the scans. It’s a girl.”

"Good. His Highness needs more women to order him around.” The kittens were trying to scale one of her bookshelves—unsuccessfully, but they kept trying.

Nakia chuckled. “I think he was hoping for a boy, to be honest. But he’s happy.”

"Good. I'm glad for you both. I can't wait to be her godmother.”

“You’ll have her throwing spears before she can walk.”

"But of course. No soft princesses for Wakanda.”

One of the kittens came over, and hopped on Okoye’s knee. She stared for a moment, and when Okoye reached to rub her head, she purred. This had been a good decision. 

There was a knock on the door, and Nakia turned her head. “That’s my ride.” Nakia didn’t bring along a Dora detail when she hung out with Okoye—she was the General, after all—but they shuttled her back and forth.

Scooping up the kitten, she walked her friend to the door. "I will see you tomorrow at the council meeting.”

“Enjoy your kitties.”

"I will, thank you.”

Okoye had a meeting with the King in the morning, and was soon amused he knew she’d gotten kittens. “If you feel compelled to name one of them after me, I understand."

"They are girls," she informed him dryly.

“Then I’d understand less.”

"I was thinking of naming the calmer one after your mother.”

“She would likewise be honored.” He tapped the screen embedded in his desk. “Shuri wants to open a European tech center, out of London.”

She glanced at the images that had popped up. "Makes sense. The one in California is doing well.”

“It’s in the preliminary stages, but I know your staffing has a long ramp up, so I thought I’d warn you now.”

"I appreciate it. I will check my numbers and adjust as needed.”

“I would also like you to start thinking about security for my daughter.”

She didn't glance at him. "I am insulted you think I have not already.”

T’Challa was quiet a moment. “Nakia said you were a little odd about it, so I hadn’t wanted to bring it up.”

Okoye sighed. "The two of you having a baby brings into focus the ways my life has not gone as planned. But I will not love her any less.”

“I am sorry,” he said quietly.

"It's not your fault. It is what happened.”

“I think we all wonder what role we played. What might have made things turn out differently.” Pending parenthood was apparently making him feel philosophical.

"He made his decisions. He knew what he was doing and had chances to turn back. He chose not to.” She didn’t need to mention who she was talking about.

T’Challa looked at her a moment. “You are steady as the earth itself, you know that?”

"Years of practice, Your Highness.”

“I do have a gift for you. Nakia and I do.” He paused. “It was mostly her, but she made me come and look up the information so I’m just sending it to you now. For your cats. She said they require some sort of furniture, and the one you got looks like it was designed in America.”

How on earth they had managed to get a new climbing tower in less than twenty-four hours she would never know. But she had to agree, "It does look like an American design.”

“We got a new bed—one with more space to accommodate Nakia’s pillows—and got it from a company that makes custom furniture. They will make you cat furniture. It’s already set up, you just have to tell them what you want.”

"That is very thoughtful of you," she said. "Thank you.”

He grinned. “Nakia told me they were black cats.”

"They are. Two sisters, about four months old. Already own my apartment.”

“That sounds about right.” His beads chimed, and he inclined his head. “I need to take this. Thank you, General.”

"My King." She nodded and let herself out of his office.

The rest of her day was full of meetings. Most of her days seemed full of meetings lately. Her spear was getting rusty and her muscles were going soft. She needed someone or something to beat up, but her problems lately weren’t the sort you could solve with a good stab.

Maybe she should change up her work out routine. Run in the jungle. See if something attacked her. She could go to a bar and beat up grabby drunks. She and Nakia used to do that to blow off steam when they were younger.

Or she could just embrace being an old cat lady, and spent the King’s money on a fake forrest.

Building the fake forest could be done on her couch with a glass of wine and two cats sleeping in her lap, so it won out. She went, perhaps, a tiny bit overboard on the cat jungle gym. But her babies would be spoiled, preferably on the royal dime.

She got a message back in the morning from the furniture company. _We need to measure your space._

"Ugh," she said aloud to the kittens. "People." Still, she wrote back. _I have time this afternoon._

_4 PM_. It was a statement, not a question. Okoye was not used to people making demands.

She supposed they were both lucky 4pm would work for her. She replied with only her address.

A man showed up at exactly 4, carrying tools and what looked like physical measuring tape. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen someone use that before. It was an old-fashioned thing, like a spinning wheel.

"How long will this take," she asked as she let him in.

“As long as it takes,” he replied. “But not long.” He had a very odd accent it took her a bit to place.

It wasn't exactly the answer she had hoped for, but she actually didn't have any plans for the evening. He was, if she was honest, quite nice to look at. Broad shoulders, strong features, bit of a beard. He looked like a man who worked with his hands all day. "I was thinking of putting it over by the window there." She pointed, walking over. "They like to look out at the city." 

He tapped the wall above the top of the window, he was that tall. “You mind if attach something here?” 

She shook her head. "That's fine. I intend to stay here a long time."

He took more measurement with his tape, then asked, “Do you want exactly what you ordered, or do you want something made to this space?”

Okoye looked at him a moment. "I suppose I am not an expert on cat furniture, so I'll take something made for the space.”

He smiled, as that seemed to be the right answer. “It will take about a week.”

She sighed deeply. "I suppose I will have to spoil them in other ways till then.”

“Nothing wrong with a little delayed gratification now and then.” He looked down, and there were two kittens winding around his ankles. “They do seem happy.”

"I've only had them a couple of days. Grateful to be out of their little box.”

He crouched down to pet them. “Do they have names?”

"That one is Ramonda," she told him. "The other is Shuri.”

He chuckled. “How very royal.” He stood. “I am Idi.”

"Okoye," she replied, inclining her head. "You are. . . Jabari?”

Idi grinned. “I know who you are. And yes. The accent or the tape measure?”

"Mostly the accent. I have heard M'Baku pontificate at council long enough to recognize it.”

“I’m just a carpenter. I don’t pontificate much.”

"You're Jabari. I'm sure you have Opinions on wood.”

He packed up his tools. “Many. No one around here much wants to hear them, though.”

Jabari felt about their wood the way most Wakandans did about their vibranium. Everyone was a snob about something. "I didn't think many of the Jabari worked down here in the lowlands.”

He nodded. “Not many of us do. I came so my daughter could attend a special school. My tribe is small and we don’t have the kind of resources for. . . certain needs.”

That didn't surprise her. A tribe as small and insular as the Jabari wouldn't have as many resources, though they would do their best to take care of their own. "We have excellent schools," she said. "Especially for those who need help. I'm glad you found something for your daughter.”

“I did. So I put up with the city. Even if it really isn’t my thing.” It was not entirely hers, either. The Border Tribe lived a very rural life. Everyone had land, and everyone had livestock.

"I grew up on the border," she found herself saying. "I find the city . . . very loud and busy.”

“Too many bodies crowded in,” he said in agreement. “Everyone is in a rush.”

"What does your wife think of it?”

She could see his face shift—discomfort, grief, resignation—and knew the answer before he spoke. “She would have hated it.”

"Ah." Okoye crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her head, silent condolences. "Do you have opportunities to go back home?”

“I go home during the school breaks. They ever get that train built I might get home more.”

"I shall pester the king on your behalf.”

He grinned. “And I will build you a beautiful climbing structure.”


	2. Chapter 2

Idi had not expected to be doing commissions for the royal family when he took this job. He’d been working on mundane things, building tables and chairs and mantles—something that had become a fad since opening to the west. Mostly mantles. Lowlanders were from a center-fire tradition, and the architecture reflected that. Plus they’d stopped burning wood centuries before, outside the Border Tribe.

Jabaris used the kind of stone wall hearth that leant itself to a mantle, so their carpenters knew how to make them well. It was why Idi had been hired. 

Then the Panther King had wanted a bed made out of Jabari Wood, and suddenly there Idi was in the palace, being apparently the only person in all of Birnin Zana who knew how to work it.

More orders followed.

He was late getting home, and his nanny was annoyed, but clearly tried to hide it. His daughter did not. Instead of dinner, they had a meltdown, because Hasana was tired and hungry and didn’t handle much variation in her routine. 

He got some food in her once she calmed down. They kept the air conditioning blasting so she could curl up under her furs on the couch. She said she liked the weight on her. “What are you making, Baba?”

“Cat furniture.” He held up his sketch for her to see.

She leaned over to peer at it. "Did you meet the cats?”

“I did. They were black, and very friendly. Named after the Queen Mother and the Princess.”

"I like cats," she informed him.

“The lowlanders seem very fond of them.”

"Can we have cats?”

He looked over at her a moment. He was not really much of a pet person at all, but cats were pretty easy. “Let me think about it?”

Her lower lip came out, but she nodded, resettling on the couch. "Is the person with the cats nice?”

“Far more than I expected her to be. She’s the head of the Dora Milaje,” he added.

Hasana's eyes lit up. "The General?

“Yes,” he said, surprised at how excited she looked. “I didn’t know you knew who she was.”

She nodded. "Some of the other girls at school talk about her. Sometimes she goes to schools and shows off her spear.”

“I shall have to make her an extra nice cat tree, then, won’t I?”

"You should," she agreed solemnly.

“And you, I think, should get in bed in five minutes.”

"Can I have a story?”

He grinned at her. Bedtime was one of his favorite parts of the evening, because it had taken so long to get her to go to sleep on a consistent basis, and it was now a bonding activity and not a war. “You can have two stories.”

She lifted her arms in victory. “Yay!"

“Come on, little monkey,” he said, standing up.

She wiggled out from under the furs and stood, taking his hand to walk to her bedroom. He read her her two books, and rubbed her back as she drifted off. The school had been so good for her, and she’d made so much progress in the year they’d been here. But sometimes he really missed having his family around—pain though they could be. And he missed his wife. Parenting was really hard to do alone.

He had work to do. No time to dwell. Maybe he’d find time to dwell again someday.

The next morning was hectic, as usual. Getting Hasana fed and dressed and dropped off at school was sometimes a monumental task. Then he headed into work to start doing some of the pre-fabrication for the General's cat jungle.

By mid-afternoon, he realized he was definitely going to need two more measurements. He sent her a message hoping she wouldn’t be inclined to stab him.

_I am on duty until 5pm. Can you come afterwards?_

He stared at the message and thought of his annoyed nanny. He really couldn’t afford to have her quit. _Do you object to a 7 year old assistant joining me._

There was a brief pause. _Not at all._

He really hoped _he_ didn’t get fired for this.

Hasana was delighted to find out she was going to visit the General's house. Happy enough she obligingly munched her snacks and listened to his gentle lecture on proper behavior when on the job without a whiff of tantrum.

Idi took a deep breath, reminded himself he climbed mountains, and took her upstairs.

Okoye opened the door when he knocked, wearing loose fitting, casual clothes. "Thank you for being flexible," she said as she let them in. Then she smiled at Hasana. "This must be your assistant.”

Hasana stared at her with wide eyes, then asked, “Where is your uniform and your spear?”

Idi groaned to himself, but Okoye smiled even wider. "My uniform stays at the palace in the Dora locker room. But I can show you my spear if it's all right with your Baba.”

“He’ll say yes. He even gave me candy to be nice today,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he said. “I just need a few more measurements.”

"Not at all. A warrior is proud of her weapon." She said it mostly to Hasana, in a conspiratorial fashion.

He went to get his measurements and Okoye brought out her spear. Out the corner of his eye he saw Hasana touch it reverently and then Okoye had her step back so she could show a few moves. 

His daughter watched in awe. Then he heard, “My Mama was a warrior.”

"Was she?" Okoye crouched down to her level. "So was mine."

“Did yours die in battle?”

"No," she said gently. "But my father did, a long time ago."

“A bad man came and tried to steal Wakanda,” Hasana said. “She fought him and she died.”

Idi knew he ought to intervene in this line of conversation. He should have when it started. The battle where his wife had died, the Border Tribe had been fighting the Dora Milaje, and he knew Okoye and her ex-husband had been on opposite sides. He couldn’t imagine anyone liked being reminded of the time their personal life was part of a national scandal so juicy it had reached Jabari Land, but he was frozen in his spot. Sometimes that night felt as fresh as yesterday. M’Baku had come to his house himself to break the news, and Idi had known the moment he saw him walking up the path.

"I remember that day," Okoye told Hasana. "I fought the man as well. And many of my good friends were lost to him. My husband, as well, was lost." She crossed her arms over her chest. "My comfort for your loss."

Hasana tapped her chest over her heart. “I think they are happy with the ancestors.”

"I believe the same." She smiled. "Now then. Do you think I can convince you and your Baba to stay for supper?"

“I wouldn’t want to impose. . .” Idi said. But it was past dinner time and they were both hungry, so it sounded like an awesome idea.

"Nonsense, you worked around my inconvenient schedule. I can feed you." She looked at Hasana. "What are your feelings on fresh injera bread?"

Glory to Hanuman, she had somehow suggest one of the four lowland foods Hasana was willing to eat. “With lots of butter,” Hasana replied.

"Of course! There is no other way to eat it." She held a hand out to her. "Come. Help me in the kitchen a moment so your father can work in peace." To his surprise, Hasana took her hand, and happily followed her.

He really hoped this didn’t end in disaster.

By the time he had finished his measurements, Okoye and Hasana had set the table and brought out a serving dish of slow cooked goat stew and a plate of bread with a matching dish of butter, and a large bowl of creamy, fluffy mashed potatoes.

"What do you prefer to drink?" she asked him when he came over.

“Water is fine, thank you.” He paused. “I hope you will not be offended if we don’t eat the meat?”

"Oh! Of course. I forgot. Just a moment, I can whip up something vegetarian."

“No, no, no,” he said, waving a hand. “I’ll eat around it and Hasana wasn’t going to eat anything but the bread anyway. This is fine, thank you.”

"Are you sure? I have salad fixings. . ."

“Really, I promise. I feel bad enough you ended up feeding us, don’t make special food.”

She looked perturbed at this, but nodded and took her seat. "There are plenty of veggies in the stew, at least," she said, at least partially to herself.

“I’ve consumed a lot of things with meat broth, or had meat to pick around, since moving down here. You do put it in everything. But I’ve found I like it. My mother would be horrified.”

"In my tribe it would be unthinkable to have a meal without goat. I swear my grandmother would serve it at breakfast if we let her."

“I believe the River Tribe is that way with fish.”

"They are. I used to room with the Queen. Dinner was usually interesting."

He laughed. “Most Jabari eat fish. So I probably have a better tolerance for reheated fish than most.”

"Next time I will serve you fish."

He got the sense she was not someone who said things idly, out of politeness. When he came back to install the climbing tower, she would make him food. So he grinned. “I’ll take you up on that.”

"Excellent." She gestured towards the windows. "When can I expect my structure?”

“End of the week. What’s a good day for you? It will take a couple hours.”

She lifted her wrist and twisted her beads a moment, checking her schedule. "Sunday? The King plans to spend the day at home, so I will be off.”

“Do you mind if I bring Hasana?”

"Of course not. She's very welcome.”

He smiled. “We’ll be by after breakfast, then.”

"I'll look forward to it.”

*

Nakia was making a trip to visit the Wakandan Outreach Center in Kinshasa, and T’Challa had asked Okoye to go with her—in addition to her regular Dora detail. It was almost certainly unnecessary, but it made him feel better. And Okoye never turned down girl time. 

"It's possible I've met a man," she admitted as they took off. Okoye liked to fly anything she traveling in herself. Nakia came up to hang out with her until they were at cruising altitude and the auto-pilot took over.

“I thought you said you were done with ‘other people’s poor taste’ and taking a break from the set ups?” Nakia made air quotes during that sentence. She herself had stayed out of it, other than to warn Okoye not to let anyone set her up with her cousin Jengo.

"I know. I found this one all on my own. Sort of. He's making my cat tree.”

Nakia turned her head. “Wait, the Jabari carpenter? The one that made our new bed? Oh, he’s delicious. I mean, I know I’m married. But I have eyes.”

"Of course you do. And yes, he is. And he has an adorable little girl.”

Her eyebrows went up. “So you’re meeting the family?”

"She had to come with him one time when he needed measurements.”

Nakia considered this. “Is there a ex-wife floating around somewhere to be a problem?”

"Ah." Okoye hesitated. "Late wife. She fell in the battle with Killmonger.”

“Is that. . . awkward?”

"I have no idea. I told you it was possible I'd met a man. We haven't done much but have a dinner together and talk about cats.”

“But you like him?”

"I do. He. . . appeals to me. In a way most men do not.”

She looked out the windshield to avoid the amused look on Nakia’s face. “Was there lightning?”

"Perhaps I'm too old for lightening. There was something, though. A spark.”

“Well then you should see where it goes.” Nakia patted her. “You deserve to be happy.”

"I think I do. I'm just. . . very out of practice.”

The autopilot came on, and Okoye stood, going to sit with Nakia in the more comfortable seats behind the cockpit.

Nakia was in the middle of procuring snacks. “It’s probably not the same with with different men,” she said. “Granted, aside from the incidental groping at sometimes comes with my line of work, I’ve had the same one since I was 22. But that’s the sense I get. I know your marriage was kind of. . . intense.”

"It tended towards that, yes. We were both. . . larger than life people.”

“So maybe something grounded would feel good.”

"He is very grounded." Okoye considered, poking at the pieces of fruit on her plate. "A little sad.”

“You are a little sad, too,” Nakia said gently.

She smiled. "Yes. I suppose I am.”

“It would be nice to see you happy again.”

Okoye didn't personally think she had been acting much different. Especially recently as she'd found her balance again. If she had to give it a name, she would have called it something missing. There was a hole in her life, one she had hoped to fill with the kittens. Another heartbeat in the house. Someone to make memories with. "It will be nice," she agreed. "If it comes to anything.”

The Outreach Center was secure, so Okoye didn’t have much to do while Nakia had her meetings. Other than watch people fuss over the pending Royal Baby. Children had been perhaps the central point of conflict in her marriage, because according to tradition a Dora had to retire to have them (or be dismissed). She loved her job and didn’t want to stop. Being a homemaker wasn’t exactly her speed. Around they went.

But there was a new King now, one not chained to traditions, and with a wife who thought the policy was patently ridiculous. She’d found telling her girls that from now on there would be maternity leave a little bittersweet.

"Are you tired of people touching your stomach yet?" she asked Nakia.

“Oh, you have no idea.” She checked the time on her beads. “I think I’m about done here.”

"Let's head to the jet, then. Home in time for dinner.”


	3. Chapter 3

Back at the palace, Okoye left the Queen with her doting husband and headed home. She fed the kittens and then went to the store. She had fish to buy.

She bought too much at the store, but she had missed having someone to cook for. Sunday morning she woke early and went for a run, then ate breakfast and started baking. Hasana had plowed through quite a bit of bread and Okoye wanted to make sure there was plenty on hand.

It had just come out of the oven when there was a knock on the door. Idi, Hasana, and a large crate full of wood.

"Excellent timing," she told him "Do you need help carrying anything?”

“No, thank you, it’s on a cart,” he said, pulling it in behind him.

“Hi, General,” Hasana said. “Can I see the kittens?”

"You may. They are napping in the bedroom.” 

She clapped and went bounding off. Idi watched her, then said, “It’s all she talked about all week.”

Okoye smiled. "She's a sweet girl.”

“She’s had a tough time of it,” he said, starting to unload the wood pieces. They looked heavy, but he moved them around like they weighed nothing.

"Has her new school been helping?”

“It is. I see it every day. You have no idea how impossible today would have been a year or two ago. I remind myself that’s why I’m here.” He was laying the pieces out in a particular order that he seemed to know. “But sometimes. . .” He shook his head.

"It's hard," she said. "When your life changes so drastically. Even if it's for the best in the end.”

“I know it’s the best for her,” he said. “Not so sure about me yet.” He made a face. “Sorry. You don’t need a sob story from the guy here to build your cat furniture.”

"It's all right. I imagine you don't have many to talk to.”

“Not often. My family won’t use Kimoyo Beads, because they are the kind of Jabari that really don’t like vibranium. I try to convince them every time I’m home, though.”

She resisted the urge to snort derisively. "Maybe someday.”

“We went up this week so I could get your wood, and I left a pair with my mother in hopes missing her grand baby will get her over the hump.”

"I am told babies cure many ills," she said with her best forced smile.

He watched her a moment, like he could see it was fake. But he didn’t comment. Instead he gave her a smile that was genuine. “So people say.”

They held each other's gaze a long moment. Then she cleared her throat. "Anything I can do to help?”

“I know where everything goes, I should be fine. There’s going to be a lot of hammering and such.” 

"Noise doesn't bother me.”

He grinned. “That does not surprise me one bit.”

Once he got to work, she went back to her food prep. From the kitchen she had a clear view and found she really enjoyed watching him work. The way he fit the pieces together, and carefully knocked them into place. He ran his fingers along each joint, and then smoothed it with sandpaper. It was very careful and precise. 

She appreciated precision like that. There were not a lot of professions that required it. She had never considered being with a man who was not a warrior in his own right. But she liked Idi's quiet strength. 

As it came together, she had to re-evaluate her expectations of her cat tree. It was fluid and organic and fit her space as if it had grown there itself. It wasn’t furniture, it was art.

When it looked like he was nearly done, she ventured out to the living room with a tray of snacks. "That's quite beautiful."  
He grinned, but was quiet when he said, “I hoped you’d find it worth the wait.”

"I'm confident I will.”

He took a couple of pieces of fruit off the tray. “Part of me could live down here just for the melons.” Hasana came bounding out to get some of her own.

"We have many compliments on our fruit." She handed a wedge to Hasana. "T'Challa makes sure all his political guests are fed a fruit tray.”

“I should get back to work,” he said, popping another piece in his mouth. He looked at his daughter. “Are you being good?”

She nodded, eyes wide and innocent. "I was playing with the kittens. They like to chase things.”

“You’re not messing with the General’s things, are you?”

"No, sir. Her spear was up too high.”

He sighed heavily. “Hasana.”

Okoye smiled. "Would it be all right if I showed her a training spear?”

Hasana bounced on her toes, and after another sigh, Idi said, “All right.”

"Come with me," she told Hasana, leading her into the spare room she used as an exercise space. She took down a short wooden spear and handed it to the little girl. "Should I show you a couple of moves?”

Hasana nodded once, and gripped her spear. “Show me once and I’ll remember.”

Okoye grabbed her own spear and showed her a few basic holds and positions. Then she strung them together, showing her how to move from attention to attack position and back. It was the first sequence a Dora learned. Repeating it until they could do it in their sleep.

She’d assumed it was a child’s over-confidence, but Hasana mimicked the entire thing exactly.

"Very good job," she told her when they were done.

She beamed. “Show me more?”

"Not today. I want you to practice that, then next time I'll show you another sequence, all right? It's good to take it in small chunks.”

“Baba is done building the tree,” she said solemnly. “There won’t be a next time.”

Okoye smiled, torn between reassuring her and not wanting to say anything she might repeat at an embarrassing moment. "Never say never, little one.”

“Never happens all the time. People die.”

"Sometimes, yes." She crouched down. "But often they don't. And just because you father is done building doesn't mean we'll never see each other again.”

“Okay.” Hasana paused. “I like to know when things are happening.”

"Me too. I'll talk to your dad today, so you'll know when the next time will be.”

“Thank you. Can I practice some more?”

"As long as you like.”

She went back into the sequence, and Okoye decided to leave her to it. Then she went back out into the hall. Idi was in the arched doorway to the living room, leaning one shoulder against the trim. 

For a moment, she wondered what he'd overheard and if he was upset. She decided to barrel forward. "All done?”

“All done,” he replied. “Come take a look.”

She followed him back to the living room to find a small jungle now lived by the window. It was as much sculpture as anything else. A collection of platforms and climbing branches that seemed to flow and move as if it were alive. "It's lovely.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Better than the thing you ordered, eh?”

"Much, much better," she agreed.

“And thank you for entertaining my daughter.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Hasana. . . takes things very seriously.”

"I have noticed that." She was a soldier, the General of the Dora Milaje. She should not be nervous asking a man out. "I would like to see you again. Both of you. Mainly you, though. Personally. Not business.”

He grinned, and she felt better. “So you’re saying I won’t have to come up with random pieces of furniture to convince you you need built?”

"I would not say no to random pieces of furniture appearing in my home. But no, you don't need to.”

“Well. Maybe I’ll save that for later.”

She smiled. "Maybe if you need to soothe my temper.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve been well trained in women who can crack my skull.”

"That's an important skill in my partner.”

“Are we gonna eat?” Hasana called from the doorway. “I’m hungry.”

Okoye shared a rather knowing smile with Idi before turning to her. "We are going to eat. Would you like to help me carry the bread out?”

“Yes, yes I would.”

"You should wash your hands, if you haven't," she teased Idi as she passed him, leading Hasana to the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after her.

She handed Hasana the big basket of bread to bring to the table, then carefully ladled out the fish stew into two big bowls for her and Idi. When she came out with them he was already waiting for her, helping his daughter smother her bread in butter.

“Thank you for the bread,” he said. “She’s very specific about her food. The stew smells delicious.”

"I'm told I went through a phase as a child wherein I would only eat goat cheese and potatoes." She tore off a bit of injera to dip in her stew. "This is one of Nakia's recipes.”

“The River Tribes loves their fish,” he said.

“Granny says people in the River Tribe secretly have gills,” Hasana informed her around a mouthful of bread.

“That’s because your Granny likes to repeat old superstitions,” Idi replied.

"I've met many River people and not seen one set of gills," Okoye assured her.

“I told Granny I thought it would be neat to have gills. I think she was trying to be mean. She does that a lot. But I think it would be neat to have gills.”

Idi sighed. “My mother has not adjusted to the last couple of years well.”

Probably meant she wouldn't be particularly thrilled with her son dating a Lowlander. Too early to worry about that, though. "There were quite a few of us who were skeptical about . . . mixing with the Jabari.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You put yourself in that category?”

"In the beginning," she admitted. "I was not in a trusting mood.”

“I imagine you earned that.”

"T'Challa had a lot of changes he wanted to make. I was reeling for personal reasons and. . . it was a lot." She sipped some of her stew. "And I know there were bad blood between the Jabari and Border tribe, because they stood with Killmonger. I understood why, but resented the bad mouthing of my tribe.”

“Granny says the Border Tribe eats baby sheep,” Hasana said. 

“Hasana!” Idi turned to her and said something Okoye didn’t understand. There were variants of the Jabari dialect that were unintelligible to lowlanders, and clearly he spoke one. She knew there were Jabari who fished in the river and interacted with the River Tribe. There were cosmopolitan ones who lived in Gorilla City and were aware of the outside world and even learned other languages. All of the ones that populated M’Baku’s staff and entourage were clearly from one of those groups. But parts of the tribe still existed deep in the mountains.

Though it was an accurate, if euphemism free, statement. Her people did eat their share of lamb.

"Sorry," Hasana mumbled in her general direction before shoving more bread into her mouth.

"It's quite all right," Okoye assured her, before smiling at Idi. “Really."

“So have you come around?” he asked, scooping up some stew.

"I have." As she had on most of T'Challa's changes. "At times I think I have more in common with Jabari than some of the other tribes. I like my traditions as well.”

“I can see that about your tribe. Because you are visible, people live much more traditional lives.”

"I moved to the city when I was a teenager, to start Dora training. But growing up, everything was very traditional and simple.”

“Do you miss it?”

"The Border? Sometimes," she admitted. "I visit my mother often. And on the rare vacation I'll go out on safari or the like.”

“I’ve wanted to see other parts of the country. The jungles, the savannah. It’s very different from the mountains."

"Perhaps next weekend I could show you two some of the jungle.”

He grinned. “I think that sounds like a lot of fun.”

"I'll look forward to it." And would have to make sure she had the day off to do it.

*

Hasana stuffed herself with bread, and then investigated Okoye’s bookshelf, unearthing a history book in English she found interesting. Idi had not known, until right then, that his daughter could read English well enough to do so, but he was long past being surprised by her genius. She stretched out on one of the couches with it.

He and Okoye took their wine out on to her balcony. It had a magnificent view, and the sun was just starting to set.

They sat in silence for a while before she said, "It has been a very long time since I actually liked a man.”

He looked over at her. “Shall I venture a guess that our. . .gaps are the same length, to the day?”

"Very likely. Though W'Kabi and I had been fighting more than usual prior to it all.”

“Over more than just the whole coup thing?” He held up a hand. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

She sighed. "No. It's all right. I believe in being open. It wasn't specifically about the coup, though I suppose it was related." She sipped her wine. "We were always. . . intense, as Nakia puts it. Big personalities, strong opinions. Usually fighting would be a form of foreplay. Argue all day and put it aside at night. But just before Killmonger appeared he had become angrier, I suppose. King T'Chaka had been making noise about reaching out to the world, T'Challa was supporting him, and W'Kabi didn't like it. At least, not the way they were doing it.”

“He wanted to fight the world?”

"I suppose so. When Klaue came decades ago, W'Kabi's parents fought him and were killed. He never forgave the world for that.”

He looked over his shoulder, into the living room where Hasana was dozing with the book in her lap. “I hope she is not bitter all her life.”

"It doesn't seem in her nature to hold a grudge like that. To linger on it the way he did. It's better to find a way to laugh despite your pain.”

“Her mother would want her to go on with her life. Me too, I think. I hope.”

"I like to think most people want their loved ones to be happy. Even if they can't be there to see it.”

He took a sip of his wine and stared out at the sunset. The city lights began to come on as the light dipped. “What was it like? The battle.” No one back home had ever wanted to talk about it with him. But he’d always wanted to know.

Okoye seemed to mull over the question a moment. "I spent the first part trying to fight Killmonger. But once I joined the fray on the field it was chaotic, almost overwhelming. I was fighting men from my own tribe. People I considered friends. And until the Jabari arrived I was certain it was a hopeless fight. The border tribe outnumbered us by almost double.”

He nodded. “The little bit I did hear mentioned that. M’Baku came down with a scouting party, said once he got a look at what was happening—that the Border Tribe had turned on the king—and understood that they would, in fact, come right up the mountain. Might as well join the fight before they killed T’Challa and the Dora and the only thing left was open civil war.” He looked over at Okoye. “My wife, Kesi. . .I didn’t want her to go. Not even after she told me all that. I told her we’d hide in the mountains.”

He expected her to react as a warrior, scoffing at him for being a coward. But she nodded slowly. "Understandable. You had a child to protect.”

“She paid me no heed, of course. I was angry at her for a long time afterwards, even though I know I shouldn’t be.” 

"Anger is easier to process than grief," she said quietly.

“But the grief comes eventually.” He sighed. “Like an avalanche.”

"It does. I sometimes think it would have been easier if he'd died. I could mourn the man and the future I'd hoped for, but my memories would be untouched. A pleasant refuge. As it stands, it feels like our whole relationship is tainted.”

“I bet you don’t feel guilty being interested in someone else, though.”

"Not guilty, no," she conceded with a tilt of her head. "Wary, perhaps.”

He watched her profile in the growing shadows. She looked wary of a great many things, and he wouldn’t blame her for including him in that. “Well, in no way could I raise arms against you. So there’s that.”

She laughed at that, her smile softening her face. "There is that.”

“You do that, too, though? Wake up and feel loss for the life you thought you would have?”

"Oh yes. Not as much now as I once did, but. . . yes. Sometimes it feels unreal. As if this is a dream, or that was. And I've been handed someone else life, that I only partially understand.”

“It is a feeling I know intimately. Nothing is what it should be.”

"Do you suppose dating will make it better or worse?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “But this is the life we are living now. I’m tired of thinking about what it’s not. Might be nice to think about what is could be. Make it into something I do understand.”

"It would be nice to plan things," she said thoughtfully. "To have things to look forward to.”

“To have company.”

She looked over at him, then slowly reached over to touch his hand. It was the gentlest touch, but there was something electric in it. Maybe because it had been so long, or maybe it was just chemistry. Whatever it was, he didn’t want it to stop. He turned his hand enough to tangle their fingers.

Her fingers fit neatly between his. She gave him a little squeeze and held on. It was simple, and completely chaste. But he absolutely could not pay attention to anything else. They sat there in silence, hands tangled, until the last thin threads of sunlight faded and the city came alive in the darkness.

"I suppose you should get home," Okoye finally said softly.

“I should. It’s late.”

"Perhaps we can find time to get coffee during the week.”

“Without the audience?”

"It would be a novelty.”

He squeezed her hand. “My schedule during the day is freer than yours, so, you know. . .whenever.”

"I'll text you?" she offered. "Once I have a sense of my schedule.”

“Sounds good.” He very reluctantly let her go, so he could stand up.

She got to her feet as well, taking his empty wine glass from him. "This was the nicest evening I've had in a long time.”

He dipped his head. “Me, too. You have no idea. Or maybe you do.”

"I have an idea," she said, touching his cheek with her fingertips. 

He shouldn’t, because his daughter was inside, but the only thing he wanted to do was kiss her. It was a strange, surprisingly strong urge. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. But that touch felt like an invitation. 

Her fingertips trailed down along his beard before her hand fell to settle on his chest. "I keep expecting Hasana to interrupt us," she confided in a whisper.

“She’s asleep,” he murmured, watching her mouth. “But I probably should go get her.”

"Is she a deep sleeper?" she asked, stepping a little closer.

“Like a lion in the afternoon,” he replied. Unable to resist anymore, and not even sure why he had been, he cupped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. She responded immediately, pressing close and wrapping both arms around his neck. If the touch had been a spark, this was outright fire. And it got hot and intense just as fast.

They broke to breathe, both gasping a little, and he realized he'd lifted her slightly off her feet. He bent to set her down and she grinned at him, looking utterly beautiful. "Excellent night.”

He laughed, and it felt good. “Certainly the best install I’ve ever had.”

"I should hope so.”

He gave her a very light kiss before going to collect his daughter. “Let me know when you’re free?”

"I'll text you," she promised. "And we'll plan for the jungle on the weekend.”

“Sounds like fun,” he said, hefting Hasana onto his shoulder.

"Safe journey home," Okoye told him, opening the door for him.

“I’ll see you soon,” he replied.


	4. Chapter 4

Okoye, in all her years as a Dora, had never requested a day off, other than her wedding and honeymoon (which she didn't even take, thanks to an alien invasion). And for that, she hadn't so much as asked as made the schedule to accommodate it. The weekly rotation usually supplied more than enough days off for her needs.

So she probably shouldn't blame his Highness for the look of incredulity when she asked for Saturday _and_ Sunday off. But it prickled none the less.

“You’re not ill, are you?”

"No," she said succinctly. He was still looking at her with concern, so she sighed and admitted, "I have a date.”

His eyebrows went up, and he grinned. “For two days?”

"Probably only one, but we're going to be hiking the jungle and a day to rest afterwards would be appreciated." She was absolutely _not_ planning anything.

She could see his face. She could _see_ him struggling with his desire to tease her. Make a joke about why she needed rest. Decorum won. “My wife would smother me in my sleep if I did anything other than agree and wish you well.”

"Thank you, my King.”

“It is an honest wish. We have both been a little worried about you these years.”

Okoye raised a brow. "I'm flattered I'm such an interesting topic of discussion.”

“I would not be here if you hadn’t chosen to put your country above your heart. It has always bothered me the price you paid.”

She glanced away from him, out the window at the panther statue looming on the mountain. "He was no longer the man I had loved. That man would not have turned his back on his friend. Or his country. Or his wife.”

“He didn’t deserve you.”

"I suppose not. And now he shovels rhino shit in the wildlands and I have a date with a very handsome Jabari man." She gave T'Challa a fierce smile, showing teeth. "Bast has a sense of humor.”

“Talk about something that would have once been impossible. Integration is not so bad after all, eh?”

"Yes, yes. You gave me the weekend off, you can say you told me so.”

“The future is a surprise to us all, General.”

She shook her head. "You should write that down. Use it in your autobiography later.”

Okoye was actually surprised it took all day to filter it’s way back to Nakia, but there was a message waiting for her when she went off shift. _Are you going away for the weekend with Furniture Guy????_

She sighed deeply. _We're not going away for the whole weekend. We're going for a day trip in the jungle._

_Okay. I’m ditching my husband and taking you to dinner._

Trying to dissuade her would be pointless. _I'll wait in the main hall._

Going to a nice resteraunt on the Queen’s dime wasn’t the worst thing in the world. And they had a nice secluded booth.

They ordered wine an appetizers before Okoye gestured to Nakia. "Well? Let the interrogation begin.”

“I didn’t take you out to interrogate you.”

She gave her friend her best skeptical face. “Oh?"

“I’m just here to receive whatever you feel like sharing.”

"Uh huh. And if I feel like sharing nothing?”

“Then we’ll enjoy dinner and I will tell you all about my weird pregnancy symptoms.”

"Mmm. Anything dinner appropriate?”

“My second trimester has gifted me the libido of a teenage boy.”

"Congratulations. I though the King was in a good mood.”

Nakia laughed. “Well, the bed is holding up better than the last one.”

"I'll send Idi your compliments.”

The appetizers arrived, and they dug in. Nakia practically stuffed her mouth, and they had silence while she chewed. “It is honestly very well made. And gorgeous. It’s as much art as furniture.” She scooped up another fried potato. “I really wanted to have a wooden bed, but T’Challa keeps breaking them. Jabari wood solved the problem.”

"My cat tree is also more art than furniture. I almost feel guilty letting the kittens climb on it. But the love it so.”

“But it is art that was made to be used.”

"It is." She licked a little sour cream off her thumb. "His daughter wants to be a warrior. I got her a little practice spear.”

“That’s adorable. Are you teaching her to use it?”

"We went over the first few positions and the primary attack sequence. She picked it up very well.”

“You said her mother was a warrior?”

Okoye nodded. "She died in the fight with the Border tribe.”

Nakia ate for a moment, then said, “Well he’s got a type.”

"Clearly." There was no point in denying that. "I think it's good. I'm not an easy person to be with.”

“But there is clearly something to this. More than ‘maybe’?”

"Yes. We are more than maybe." She swirled her wine to avoid looking at Nakia for this part. "We kissed last night.”

Both eyebrows went up. “And?”

She couldn't help but smile. “Fireworks."

Nakia laughed. “Good!”

"It was, yes.”

Okoye could tell by the look on Nakia’s face this was the information she wanted, but she also looked genuinely happy. “Have fun this weekend. Make sure you get some private time.”

"I'll do my best. We're going to try to have a child-free lunch during the week.”

“T’Challa will give you whatever time or days off you want,” she said immediately.

"I do not need preferential treatment," Okoye said, trying not to laugh. "We can manage to work around our jobs like normal people.”

“You might not need it, but you deserve it.”

"I feel the need to point out I organize the Dora schedule. I can give myself evenings off as much as I like.”

“Except that you tag along every time T’Challa or I leave Wakanda. Which the last couple years has been _often_. So if I need to adjust our schedules a little, let me do it.”

She held up her hands. "All right, all right. I will let you know.”

Thursday afternoon, Okoye scheduled her lunch with Idi. _Mysteriously_ Nakia suddenly decided she didn’t feel well, and insisted that T’Challa come tend to her. They’d be in for the night. . . in case she wanted to take the afternoon. It was quite coincidental, really.

They met at a cafe in the less trendy part of town, somewhere she wouldn't be pestered and they could have a little privacy. He was waiting for her when she arrived and she squeezed his shoulder as she passed to sit. "I apologize. I'm not usually late.”

“You are at the beck and call off the royal family. I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

She gave a wry smile. "They are being very understanding regarding my new social life. In fact, I have the whole afternoon to myself.”

He grinned. “Now I wish I could cancel my whole afternoon, too.”

"As do I," she admitted.

Idi hesitated, then said, “I am working in my workshop today. You. . . you could probably come along.”

She smiled. "I would love to watch you work.”

He smiled back, but she could tell he was just a little nervous. She sensed he didn’t let many people so that. “Well. Then. Let’s get some food first?” 

"Absolutely. I'm starving.”

The cafe had good, unpretentious food. They shared a dish, and he let her order something with meat in it and ate around it without complaint. She made a mental note to be sure to order vegetarian next time.

"Where is your workshop?" she asked as they got up at the end of the meal.

“Not too far from here, actually. We could walk.”

"Lead the way.”

He grinned and reached out his hand for hers. She took it, weaving their fingers together. He squeezed her gently and they started walking down the street, arms brushing against each other. It was such a nice, simple thing. The sort of thing she missed having in her life.

Idi’s workshop was in an older industrial area, the kind of place where real estate was cheap. The building itself had clearly once been a warehouse, and his workshop itself was filled with tools and equipment and furniture in the middle of being built. There was also a large, spindly wood sculpture hanging from the ceiling. It twisted and turned and wrapped around itself in a way she didn’t know you could get wood to do.

"That is remarkable," she said, standing beneath it, trying to follow the lines of the wood.

“It has no beginning and no end. If you follow it you will loop back on yourself.”

"Remarkable," she repeated. "Have you carved your whole life?”

He nodded. “Since I was little. Mostly I built, though. There’s money in that.”

"You could sell some of this as art. I can name three galleries that would buy it in an instant.”

“Well, for one it’s Jabari wood. I’d have to get permission to sell it and that’s nearly impossible. And that one in particular is very personal.”

She looked over at him. "You need permission to use the wood?”

“Down here? Yes. We consider it sacred. You must get permission from our Chief.”

"Isn't my cat tree made out of Jabari wood?”

“Partly.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted it to hold up. And it’s the best wood. I did, technically, classify it as art and not furniture when explaining it.”

She grinned widely. "Did he know it was for me?”

“Yes. He told me you stood between him and a charging rhino, and stared it down until it stopped.” 

"I did that." Of course, she'd only realized later which Jabari, exactly, she'd saved. She'd had other things on her mind.

He leaned against his workbench. “The memory makes you sad.”

"My husband was on the rhino.”

“Ah,” he said, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

"You didn't know." She glanced up at the sculpture again. "Someday, will you tell me the story behind that?”

“I made it after Hasana was born,” he said. “I could not explain how I felt in any other way.”

"Ah." She tipped her head back again, studying it. "I can see that.”

After a moment, he said, “I have a desk to finish. Feel free to wander around and look at things, or there are some chairs here if you’d rather sit and hang out, but it may get loud.”

She nodded and waited for him to turn to his equipment before wandering around the other half finished furniture. It was all beautifully made, some simpler and some more artistic. There was a large dining table with a map of Wakanda carved into the surface that was gorgeous. When the power equipment turned off, she made her way back to where he was working. He was carefully sanding it, pausing every so often to slide his hands over the surface to assess the texture.

She couldn't help but wonder what those hands would feel like on her skin. His kiss had heated her in ways she hadn't felt in years. Holding his hand made her feel like a jittery girl with her first crush. Moving on to more serious . . . touching might cause her to combust.

He looked up, watching her like he could read her mind. Or he was thinking the same thing. After a moment, he said, “Come here.”

Generally, she wasn't one to obey orders. And she was fairly certain she was blushing dark enough he could tell. But she found herself unable to resist going over to join him. He reached out for one of her hands, and then placed her palm on the wood, his over hers. “Wood absorbs a little of everything that touches it.”

She rubbed her thumb along the smooth sheen of the wood. "What do you put in it?”

He stroked the back of her hand, and slid his fingers over hers to touch the wood, too. His work had given him a wealth of calluses. “Patience. Frustration. Grief and joy.”

"I understand those," she said quietly. "And how you can feel them all at once.”

“I like what I do so much because each little bit I leave in the wood, I don’t have to carry any more.” He met her eyes. His were so dark that you had to be this close to see the iris well. “It gets heavy.”

"I know. It's good to have somewhere to put it.”

He moved his hand up her arm and she shivered. “Where do you?”

"I'm not sure," she said honestly. "My work, I suppose. I run in the jungle and try to leave it there.”

His hand slid up to her shoulder and back down again, and it was all she could pay attention to for a moment. “Sometimes I climb mountains.”

She smiled. "How very Jabari of you.”

“After you show me the jungle, I will show you the mountains.”

"I'd like that.”

His grin was adorable. “I promise not to wear too much fur.”

"I don't mind the fur if it means I get to see your legs.”

His eyes drifted down. “You can see anything you want, honey.”

"I feel like that might take some. . . arranging.”

His hand stilled, wrapping lightly around her wrist, and he sighed. “Yeah, probably.”

"It's all right," she said gently. "I need a little time to be ready.”

“No, I know,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head. “I should get back to work, anyway.”

She caught the back of his neck and drew him down for a deep kiss. She could feel him shudder, and then his arms came around her. It was just as scorching as the first time. They had some kind of chemistry, the two of them. He lifted her, the way he had the last time, resting her on the edge of the table he was working on.

Okoye let her hands stroke his skin, cupping the back of his head, tracing the tendons in his neck. He let his hands wander—her arms, her back, down her ribs and over her hips. He got no where near anywhere interesting, but if felt like he did just the same.

"Maybe not _too_ much time," she murmured on his mouth.

“You feel this, too?” he whispered.

"Oh yes. Absolutely.”

He clearly took that as an invitation to kiss her again, and he did. It was easy to get lost in it. Get lost and imagine him bending her back to sprawl on that desk and peel her out of her clothes. Part of her really did want to give into that feeling. To put aside her distrust and wariness and do something that was just for her.

When they broke to breathe, she forced herself to say, "I should let you work.”

Idi cleared his throat, then he chuckled. “Yeah, this desk is going to a school, it's wood does not need a tincture of smut in it.”

She smiled. "Maybe if you're ever making something for a house of ill repute.”

He kissed her again, just gently this time. “I will keep that in mind.”

"I'll leave you in peace," she told him. "And see you on Saturday.”

Idi grinned. “I can’t wait.”

With one last quick kiss, she hopped off the table. He stepped back so she could move away, and she walked to the door. Before letting herself out, she glanced back and waved.

He waved back, and she had the thought it might be a a little sad that on Saturday they’d have a chaperone.


	5. Chapter 5

Friday night, Idi’s brother called him to try and get him to come home for the weekend. He was the only member of his immediate family who would use Kimoyo Beads, and so Idi talked to him the most. “Your lungs are going to lose their capacity if you don’t climb.”

“That’s a myth,” Idi replied.

“It’s not a myth that you’ll get fat and out of shape,” Amandi shot back.

“One of us does a physical job, and the other one sits behind a desk all day. I’ll let you sort that out.”

“But I climb, and you should climb too. Come on, Mama always wants to see Hasana. Have a day off from being a parent.” 

On the coffee table, Hasana was building something large and complicated out of interlocking blocks. “I have plans this weekend.”

"Moping is not plans.”

“I am not moping. And anyway, I don’t mope.”

"You kind of do. Okay, what plans do you have?”

He got up and went into the kitchen, a little further out of Hasana’s earshot. “I am going for a hike in the woods. With a . . . friend.”

There was a brief pause. "What _kind_ of friend?”

He sighed. “The kind you hope won’t stay a friend.” Granted, the shenanigan in his workshop was really already past that.

"Oh, _really_?" Amandi's voice got amusingly squeaky on the second word. "A lowlander?”

“Yes, brother, that is where I live.”

"Can I be there when you tell Mama you're dating a lowlander?”

“There is no reason to bring that up any time soon. It is very new and I am. . . It’s been a long time.”

"All right, all right." He was quiet again. "Will you come up soon, at least? If I promise not to blab?”

“I will. I promise. I will make time.”

"Good. I miss you, big brother.”

“I miss you too,” he replied, leaning against his counter. “I just. . . I can’t exist in limbo anymore. I need to make a life here.”

"I know. I suppose we all thought you'd be back someday.”

“Maybe someday I will be. You never know where life goes.” He thought about what Okoye had said about feeling like you had been handed someone else’s life. “Right now I’m making the best of the situation I’m in.”

"Could I come down and meet your lady friend?" he teased. "Glare and posture a bit?”

He laughed out loud, because it was honestly funny. “She’d kick your ass to Egypt.”

Amandi scoffed. "Who are you dating, the leader of the Dora?”

Idi did his best to school his face. “You know, really any of them could kick your ass.”

"Nonsense, I'm quite tough." His brother had always had more balls than brains.

“I’m going to go now. Talk to you later.”

"Have fun in the woods.”

Idi went to bed early that night, right after Hasana. It took him forever to fall asleep, and he didn’t even understand why he was nervous. It was just a hike, right?

In the morning, Hasana was so excited she couldn't sit and he was still trying to shovel breakfast into her when Okoye arrived. He dashed over to the door and opened it. There was something vaguely. . . battle-ready about what she was wearing. He couldn’t decide if it would be inappropriate to comment on how hot he found that.

She smiled when she saw him, a gentle, kind smile he suspected few people saw. "You look frazzled.”

“And here I was going for dashing.”

"I like frazzled better than dashing. It's real.”

Something poked him in the back, and he turned to see Hasana behind him with her spear. “Hi General! I was hoping you would be here soon. I’ve been waiting for days. Baba, let her in!” And Idi stepped back, lest he get stabbed.

Okoye stepped inside and nudged Hasana's spear aside. "Never point your weapon at someone you don't wish to hurt.”

Hasana’s face scrunched up, and he saw the day disappearing into a meltdown, perhaps to remind him how foolish it was of him to think he could have a life. But then she nodded, and by some miracle held it together. 

"Did I interrupt breakfast?" Okoye asked. "Do you mind if I join you?”

“You can come. We have lots of butter,” Hasana said seriously.

"I enjoy butter." Okoye took her hand and let her lead her to the table.

Now Hasana ate enthusiastically, and talked with her mouth full, but Idi didn’t say a word, because breakfast on Saturdays usually involved sitting around for an hour while she nibbled. Okoye ate some fruit and a piece of toast.

When everyone was full, she helped him clean the plates up and they headed out. "I borrowed a car to go out to the jungle," Okoye said, gesturing to the sleek vibranium sedan parked in front of the house.

“Do I want to know who you borrowed it from?” he asked as he strapped Hasana in the back.

"I imagine you can guess.”

“Indeed.” He climbed in the passenger side and decided not to think about that. It was a really nice car.

"I have my pack in the back," she told him, pulling out in to the street. "There's water for all of us and snacks.”

“I brought some, too. Parenthood trains you to pack like all trips might be an extended mountain camping situation."

"Parenthood and Dora training have similarities.”

He grinned. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

She drove them out of town towards the jungle, handing the steep, winding road like a race car champ. From the roller coaster noises Hasana was making, she enjoyed the ride quite a bit.

Okoye parked in a small dirt patch at the edge of the trees and they all got out, stretching a bit before unloading the packs.

“Are we going to get eaten by snakes?” Hasana asked as they started on the trail.

"No, snakes are very lazy and we're too hard to eat.”

“Okay,” she said, and then she reached out to take Okoye’s hand. Something that absolutely suprised Idi. She didn’t touch people she didn’t know well. Okoye shifted her bag on her back and took her hand, leading her out onto the trail.

Hasana stopped a lot, to point things out or to ask questions, which Okoye patiently answered. They moved much slower than she was probably used to hiking. But it was really nice to be outside in nature. It was a very different nature than he was used to, but he found he liked it.

Okoye seemed to know everything about all the plants and animals that they passed. She told Hasana which were poisonous and which you could eat. There was one fern that had vitamin C and held water in its stalks. Another with broad flat leaves that had thousands of minuscule barbs on them that would work into your skin and cause an infection. They spotted a few birds and she knew what they were and what they hunted.

They ended up at a clearing with a waterfall, and they sat to eat lunch.

"Are you enjoying your hike?" Okoye asked as they munched sandwiches.

“I am having the best time,” Hasana said sincerely.

“This is very relaxing,” Idi said. “Just what I needed.”

"I like to come to the jungle when life seems too much for me.”

He looked over at her. “Does it help?”

Tilting her head, she considered a moment before answering, "It does.”

Hasana hopped up. “Can I go over and skip rocks on the water?”

Idi blinked in surprise. “You know how to skip rocks?” He had no idea how to do that.

“Yes. One of my friends at school is from the River Tribe, and she taught me.”

"Make sure to find the flattest rocks you can," Okoye told her as she ran for the water.

“She is having a fantastic time,” he said. “Thank you.”

She smiled. "You're very welcome.”

He leaned back on his arms and stretched his legs out, watching his daughter toss more than skip rocks. “She doesn’t like many people, you know. I haven’t had a nanny last six months yet.”

"She's a sweet girl. Very direct. I like that.”

“She has a lot of behavioral and sensory issues. And she is absolutely a genius with an astonishing memory. But she didn’t talk until she was five.”

Okoye watched her another moment. "You're doing a good job.”

He blew out a breath, thinking no one had ever said that to him before. And he really needed to hear it. “Doesn’t feel like it some days. It’s been. . . so hard.”

She reached over and touched his hand. "You do your best. And you make her happy. You're doing a good job.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning his hand over to hold hers.

She looked down at their hands, then moved a little closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I think your tattoo is gorgeous, and am really curious if it hurt as much as it seems like it would.”

"It did not tickle," she confirmed. "It's a right of passage in the Dora to have it done. You're supposed to have it done without any pain killer, but can do whatever you like afterwards.”

“Let me guess, it’s a right of passage to then go get very drunk?”

"Mostly. I went for anti inflammatories and . . . endorphins. Alcohol thins your blood, it's not good for fresh tattoos.”

He laughed, understanding what she meant by the way she said it. “Hey, sex is an excellent painkiller. And promotes good blood flow to the skin.” Kesi had liked to recite such factoids while trying to convince him she absolutely was not too injured to fool around.

Okoye smiled. "I was certainly less miserable than the rest of them at roll call the next morning.”

“Yours are more elaborate than others I’ve seen. Though admittedly I’ve never seen any others up close. Sign of rank?”

She nodded. "They add more lines and colors as you rise up. It can be as subtle or elaborate as you want. I kept mine fairly traditional."

“It is art as much as function.”

"That's one of the things I like about the Dora. We folded in some of our old traditions from when we were as much harem as bodyguards. Made them our own.”

“That impression—the harem—had persisted among the Jabari. We didn’t have a lot of contact so how would we know? People were surprised the King married a woman who was not one.”

"Nakia was almost a Dora. We met in training together. It didn't suit her. She's a much better spy." She shifted, settling more firmly against his side. "The Queen Mother was a Dora. But you couldn't get me to sleep with T'Challa with a gun to my head.”

He chuckled. “Not your type, eh?”

"At this point he is as much a brother to me as if my mother had actually birthed him.”

“That is very fair. Do you have actual siblings?”

"No," she said. "It's just me and my mother.”

“I have one brother and four sisters. Everybody’s got kids, holidays are abject chaos.” He tried not to sound to wistful. He did miss them. Though he also enjoyed his quiet, and privacy. The lack of drama. It had been a lovely surprise living down here.

"I can't imagine. Well, palace holidays are usually madness.”

“It’s good to know you can be a well adjusted only child. I worry about Hasana sometimes.”

"We were happy. I liked my privacy and having space. And Mama loved me and gave me all the attention she could. I made good friends as a young woman who are as close as any siblings could be.”

“And you clearly turned out very well.”

She smiled brilliantly. "Why thank you.”

He turned his head to kiss the top of hers. “We probably should get back to our hike.”

"Yes." She pointed to the waterfall. "If we go around the right side of the falls, we could actually get up to the top of them with a little bit of climbing.”

He grinned. “You are speaking to my very soul.”

She kissed him lightly. "Let's pack up and go.”

He had to go give Hasana a countdown so she could handle the transition, but she was as excited about climbing as he was and was demanding they go before he got to 3. Okoye hefted her pack onto her back and led them around the south side of the falls to a part of the cliff that had good climbing holds.

It was an easy climb compared to what he was used to, but it meant he was comfortable going up with Hasana hanging on his back without any special equipment. And he got to watch Okoye's muscles as she did the climb herself.

The view at the top was absolutely gorgeous, and there was something very settling and right to him about being up high. “This is why I love your apartment,” he commented.

"The view?" she asked.

“The view. The height. Carpentry does not buy me top floor.”

She nodded. "Some of the other Dora found it for me. I never lived so high. But I love it. The view, the privacy. I can feel part of the world but separate, too.”

“All Jabari homes have views. I was so used to it, I didn’t realize how claustrophobic it would feel without them.”

"You are welcome in my home any time.”

He reached out for her hand. “I will take you up on that.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was too dangerous to climb down, so they had to go around the long way. The sun was sinking low by the time they made their way into the trees. Halfway down the hill Hasana started dragging her feet and Idi picked her up to carry her the rest of the way.

She cuddled against his shoulder, and he held her up with one arm. The last time she was looking for a man, more than a decade ago, she probably did not find watching one carry a dozing little girl nearly this attractive.

"Will she still sleep tonight?" Okoye asked as they made their way through the now shadowy jungle.

“Hopefully. She doesn’t sleep in cars, so she’ll wake up.”

"Ah, too bad. When I was young, apparently I could sleep anywhere."

“I’m happy she sleeps at all. She used to not.”

"At all?"

“They were more like naps. An hour or two at a clip. Like a newborn.”

Okoye shook her head. "Sometimes I think my job is much easier than yours."

He smiled. “Sometimes, I agree with you.”

The sun was touching the horizon when they reached the car, turning the sky pink and purple. Okoye put her pack in the trunk while Idi gently settled Hasana into the back seat. She did in fact perk up, and he gave her a snack. When they got on the road, she piped up with, “General, you should come have dinner at our house. Baba always makes too much food.”

She glanced over at Idi. "Well, I don't want to impose. . ."

He grinned widely. “Hey, I make too much food.”

"Convenient, then, that I'm starving, and would love to join you for dinner."

He reached for her hand, and lifted it to kiss her knuckles. It was such a sweet little gesture, something W'Kabi had never really done, and it made her heart ache a little. He had been very good at the big, grand gestures, but not always the everyday quiet moments.

She parked next to his apartment building and helped him bundle Hasana and his bags inside. His apartment was homey, and full of wooden furniture she suspected he had made. Hasana asked Okoye to show her some more moves while Idi went to cook.

She tried to focus on defensive moves rather than attacks, keeping in mind she was a little girl. She was adept at it, though, and very precise in her motions. If her interest kept up, she'd probably make a good Dora.

“My friends at school told me I couldn't be a Dora when I grow up because i’m Jabari.”

Okoye sniffed. "Jabari are Wakandan. Being a Wakandan woman is the only requirement. If, when you are grown, you wish to be a Dora, you can be. And you can tell your school friends the General said so."

She looked up at her solemnly. “I don't think they'd believe I know you.” 

"Well. Then we'll have to do something about that, won't we?”

“Dinner is ready,” Idi called from the kitchen. 

Okoye held out a hand. "Come. I'm starving.” Hasana tucked her hand in hers, and swung their arms as they walked. Idi had put a big bowl on the table, a dish of vegetables and noodles and what looked like a lot of cheese.

"That looks delicious," Okoye told him, taking the seat he offered her.

“I’ve been informed lowlanders think we eat too much cheese.”

"There is no such thing." She held out her plate for a helping. He dropped some on for her, and a little for Hasana, who also had bread, before filling his own plate.

It was warm and delicious and very filling. Many of her family members would swear to you a meal was not really a meal without some kind of meat, but this was great.

"We eat a lot of goat cheese," she told them as they were cleaning up. "Often stuffed in things. Next time I'll make you my mother's stuffed pasta.”

“I would absolutely love that,” he replied. “Hasana will probably not eat it, but don’t let that deter you.”

"That's all right. I'll also make plenty of bread.”

Hasana wandered off into the living room, and Idi took a breath. “She has a somewhat elaborate and precise bedtime ritual. I didn’t know if you wanted to wait around or. . .”

She had been hoping to have a little unchaperoned time, so she said, "I had no other plans tonight.”

He grinned widely. “Good.”

Hasana came over to say goodnight and then they went off to her room for her bedtime routine and Okoye investigated his bookshelves.

He had an assortment, both Wakandan and western books, as well as a few Jabari ones she'd never heard of. She took one of those down and settled on the couch to read, surprised to find it was a book of poetry.

She was so distracted reading it, she didn’t even hear him come out until he said, “Hey.”

"I had no idea Jabari could be so romantic," she said, waving the book at him.

He sat down beside her on the couch. “Our literature better than yours,” he said. “That’s not a jab, but the lowlanders prioritize science in their intellectual development. We prioritize more. . . liberal arts.”

"It makes sense. I just expected more glory of war and less . . . wooing of women.”

He chuckled. “There is _plenty_ of glory of war. It’s just not really my taste.”

"I suppose it wouldn't be." She set the book on her other side. "Did she go down all right?”

“Better than I expected. We wore her out.”

"So, weekly hikes in the jungle then?" she teased.

“I would not say no.” He draped his arm over the back of the couch, reaching to gently touch her shoulder. “I had a great day.”

"So did I." She shifted closer to him so his arm could wrap around her. "It was a very nice way to spend a day.”

He stroked his fingers along the back of her neck, making her shiver. His voice was quiet, intimate. “Thank you.”

She had to take a long, slow breath before she could speak. "For what?”

“Your company. The jungle tour. Making my daughter’s day. A lot of things.”

"Those were all my pleasure," she told him, reaching over to settle her hand on his thigh. "It's hard for me to express but. . . spending time with you makes me feel like I'm awake after sleeping for years.”

He smiled gently, tipping his head forward to rest his forehead on hers. “I know exactly what you mean.”

For a moment, they simply sat and shared breath. Then Okoye shifted closer and kissed him. He cupped her face in his hands, and the kiss took off—just like the previous ones had. This time there was no earthly reason to stop. No child chaperone, no inappropriate location. So she allowed it to go on, sinking into the sturdy heat of his body. He slid an arm around her, easily lifting her into his lap. A moment later he tugged her shirt out of her pants and she felt his hands on her skin.

She sighed in pleasure. His hands were as delightfully callused and worn as she'd imagined them, scraping over her soft skin. She arched into his touch, deepening the kiss further.

They kissed like that for a while, just taking their time. Eventually he lifted his head and said, “Hey.”

"Hey," she murmured. "Surprised to see me?”

“I am just wondering. . . how awake you are feeling on this particular evening?”

"I find myself wide awake at this particular moment.”

He stroked his fingers over her cheek. “Do you want to stay tonight?”

It was a step, a big one. While she wasn't much for one night stands, but she knew full well that wasn't what this was. She _liked_ him, in a way she hadn't liked anyone in years.

"I'd like that," she said softly.

He grinned, and then he kissed her again, with no caution or hesitation. She squeaked a little with the intensity of it, and with the surprise at finding he'd been holding back on her until now. They broke the kiss long enough for her to lean back and yank her shirt off, before pouncing on him again.

His hands slid along her ribs and over her back, and she felt the touch acutely. It had been such a long time since anyone touched her like this.

"Do you want to move to the bed?" she asked, hands flattening on his chest. "I don't know if there's a risk of. . . interruption?”

“That is a fantastic idea.” He stood, lifting her right in his arms. She laughed. It had been even longer since anyone had picked her up. He headed for the hallway and she kissed him again. He bumped into a wall, and the picture on it rattled. He paused for a second, lifting his head and listening. When there was no sound, he carried her into his bedroom.

He set her down on the bed and she pointedly tugged at his shirt hem so he would take it off before joining her. While he was not a warrior, he was sleek and well muscled in the way many of the Jabari were. There was something to be said for mountain climbing and hauling wood as heavy as rock.

He sat on the edge of the bed and just watched her for a moment. “You are so gorgeous,” he whispered.

"Thank you." She reached out and stroked a hand along his shoulders. "So are you.”

He reached out and trailed his callused fingers down over her bare breast. “I guess we’re a match, then.”

"Seems so." Her nipple tightened and she shivered. "You have amazing hands.”

He bent, following his thumb with a kiss on her skin. “Not too rough?”

"No." She nuzzled his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. "Just perfect.”

He took in a breath that was shuddery, and continued his exploration. It was a slow and careful touch, but one that seemed to scorch every place it went. She thought about watching him work the other day and thinking about his hands on her. It felt better than she’d imagined.

After a moment he tipped her backward, unfastening her pants and lifting her a little to slide them off. He moved her like she weighed nothing. She leaned back on the bed and he loomed over her, kissing her tenderly. She sighed, cupping his face and moving her legs restlessly. He let the kiss go on a bit, and then he kissed other places—her her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her breasts.

His mouth closed around her nipple and she sucked in a breath, arching beneath him. Her hands stroked the back of his head and neck, and down the strong lines of his shoulders and arms. When he’d given her breasts enough attention, he moved down over her stomach. “You have the softest skin,” he told her.

"Expensive lotion is one of my few luxuries," she replied, stroking an affectionate hand over his head.

For some reason, that made him grin widely. He kissed her navel and traced his fingers over her abs. She knew where he was going, but he was doing so slowly it was torture. When his mouth finally, finally brushed her sex she damn near came out of her skin. His licks and strokes were slow, exploring. yet fiercely erotic. He seemed to have all the patience in the world. A lot of men rushed this.

She relaxed into it, closing her eyes to focus on it fully. Heat built up in her belly, growing tight and twisting. Eventually, it released, spreading through her in pulsing waves, making her arch and cry out.

She could hear him rumble a chuckle, and he kissed her hip. “Here I thought you’d be the quiet type.”

"What's the fun in that?”

He grinned, and framed her waist in his hands so he could move her further back on the bed. Then he leaned over her against to kiss her, and she could taste herself.

She framed his hips with her legs, kissing him deeply. "Come here," she murmured. A groan was all he managed in reply, but she felt his hands slide under her thighs, lifting her legs and spreading them wider. This was slow, too, and the anticipation made her ache. He straightened, not taking his eyes off her. She dug her nails into his arms in encouragement, and looked down to watch him push inside her.

The sight was almost as erotic as the feel of him filing her. It had been so long, he stretched her a little, making her feel pleasantly full. Her body clenched in pleasure as he buried himself fully. He tipped his head back for just a moment, then he hitched her legs higher over his arms. Her hips tilted and somehow he got deeper. Then he pulled nearly all the way out, then back in, letting her feel the slide and stretch a second time.

Lifting a hand, she stroked his cheek and he gave her a shaky but sincere smile. Then he started to move again and again, slipping into a rhythm that soon had her panting. He let go of her legs, bracing his hands on either side of her on the bed. It got faster and harder and different. Every stroke bottomed out. The bed rocked with the force of it and she gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Pleasure started to bubble up again and she gasped, legs tightening hard, lifting her off the bed as the second orgasm swept through her. He growled something that sounded like a curse, and she could feel his body shake as he pushed as deep into her as he could get.

He sunk down on top of her and she wrapped him in her arms, holding him to her. “Glory to Hanuman,” he mumbled. He sighed, chuckled, and added, “Bast, too.”

"I'm sure they're both somewhere having a cigarette," she teased. 

He rolled off her, and then pulled her against his chest. “I honestly think I’d forgotten just how good sex is.”

She laughed. "It had been a long time.”

He lifted his head so he could kiss her. “You are amazing.”

"I know.”

Idi laughed out loud. “I like that about you.”

"That I know how amazing I am?”

“Yes. I find confidence sexy.”

That certainly explained why he was with her. "I have a full measure of that.”

“My brother wanted to come down and meet you. Warn you about breaking my heart or something. I told him you’d kick his ass.”

She laughed. "I'd let him get the threats out first.”

“I know we haven’t known each other all that long,” he said after a moment. “But this feels like it’s got something to it. Doesn’t it?”

"I think it does," she agreed. "Not to sound cliched, but I don't usually do this. It usually takes me far longer to get to sleep overs.”

“I have no idea how people normally do this. Kesi and I were arranged. And we knew it had been planned from pretty young. So I never really. . .”

She arched a brow. "Am I only your second?”

He squirmed a little. “There was also one girl I felt up at 14 or so. But otherwise, yes.”

"I am more than impressed at your skills.”

“Do not confuse lack of variety with lack of practice.”

"Kesi trained you well.”

He shifted, tucking his hands behind his head. “Does it bother you when I mention her?”

"No. Of course not. She is a part of your past and you loved her.”

That made him smile. “I think you’d have gotten along.”

"You clearly have a type.”

“I suppose I do.” He rolled onto his side, spreading his hand on her stomach. “Though I had no idea how hot I would find a shaved head.”

"Good, because even if I wanted hair again I'm not sure it would grow back.”

She felt his fingers trail over her scalp. “How long has it been like this?”

"Since I was seventeen. I shaved it when I joined training.”

“Is it just symbolic?"

"It is symbolic, and a way of identifying a Dora." She reached up and tugged on the short nub of his hair. "It also removes a potential hand hold in a fight.”

He kissed her again, his hand idly stroking one of her breasts. “Sometimes handholds have uses.”

Smiling, she cuddle closer to kiss his neck. "Well, this is a lot more fun than fighting.”


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken a long time for Idi to learn to sleep well alone. But waking up with a woman tucked up next to him still felt far more right. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was. Okoye was a surprisingly deep sleeper, not even stirring when he woke and shifted to pull her closer. In her defense, he had worn her out pretty well the night before.

Hasana would be awake soon. He should get up. But he took a moment, just to lay there and hold her. 

Sunlight crept slowly across the pillow until it woke her. She grumbled and rolled over, running into him. Which startled her awake. “Gah."

“Hi,” he said carefully, not sure what to make of that reaction.

She chuckled a little and scrubbed a hand over her face before resettling next to him. "Hi. Sorry. Been a long time since I woke up with someone.”

“You okay?” he asked, suddenly afraid she would be full of regrets.

"Of course!" She sounded surprised. "Last night was wonderful.”

“Good. Your serious face is. . .serious.”

"It's my normal face."

He watched her a moment. “You have a hundred faces. And that’s just what I’ve seen in a couple weeks.”

"And many of them are serious," she retorted, sticking out her tongue.

It was too adorable for him to not kiss her, so he did. She sighed and leaned her weight on him, kissing him back. "I am very happy," she assured him.

“Good. Me too.” More than he had been in a very long time.

She nodded. "What do you want to tell Hasana?”

“I told her that we might be having a sleepover tonight, and that whether you were still here or not, we’d go out to breakfast.” Hasana had actually asked multiple times if Okoye could sleep in her room, which he managed to deflect, but wasn’t going to share. 

"You were confident in your seduction skills," she murmured, nibbling his shoulder.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I had to have hope.”

She smiled softly and rubbed his back. "It's good to have a reason to hope.”

He held her a moment, sighing as he inhaled her scent. “Okay, I should probably get up before Hasana does. You up for breakfast?”

"Absolutely. You want to go out or make something here?”

“Out. Changing plans on her is a great way to ruin the entire day, I promise.” It occurred to him he probably should explain more about Hasana than he had. Okoye had so far seen her absolute best behavior—to the point even Idi was surprised. But it wouldn’t always be like that.

"I am a creature of habit," Okoye said, rolling to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. "I can appreciate that.”

He got up and put some clothes on, pointing at a door off his bedroom. “Bathroom is that way.”

"Ah, thank you." She pecked his cheek on the way past. He grinned and watched her go—she had not put any clothes on yet—before very reluctantly going out into the living room.

Hasana was fully dressed and waiting on the couch. He went over and sat down next to her. “Hello, little one.”

"Did Okoye sleep over?”

“She did, and we are going out to breakfast.”

"Yay!" She bounced and clapped her hands.

He reached out to rub her back. “Would you like anything to eat while we wait?”

"Is there melon?”

“Hasana, there is always melon.” He’d go out in a natural disaster to get melon. 

"Some of that, then.”

While he was in the kitchen chopping melon into equal-sized bites, Okoye came in. She smelled faintly of his soap, something he enjoyed far more than he expected. He held out a piece for her. She took it with her teeth, sucking on one of his fingers as she leaned away, smirking. He sucked in a breath and reached out to catch her wrist so he could pull her closer. She grinned, clearly hoping the teasing would work.

Wrapping her arms around his wast she tipped her head back and kissed him.

“Hey!” yelled a little voice from the doorway. “That’s gross.”

Okoye chuckled against his mouth and turned her head. "Someday, you may not think so.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head vigorously. Idi disentangled himself to give her her melon. “Well, it’s a grown up thing, so don’t worry about it.”

Okoye walked over and rubbed an affectionate hand over Hasana's hair. "Would you like me to do your hair this afternoon?”

She eyed her suspiciously. “You can do hair? You don’t have any.”

"I did once. When I was your age my mother and I would spend every Sunday afternoon carefully doing each other's hair for the week. I can do whatever you like. Braids? Curls? I help the Queen with her hair on occasion.”

She beamed. “Braids. Baba is bad at them.”

"I will be happy to give you braids. If you're up for it, after breakfast, we could go to market and find some beads to put in, if you like.”

She shook her head franticly and backed up. “No, I don’t wanna go to the market. I don’t like the market.”

"All right," Okoye said, calmly. "Do you like beads in your braids? I used to like to shake my head and make them clack.”

“I don’t like things that make noise.”

"No beads, then." She considered the little girl a moment, then crouched down. "Hasana, may I be honest with you?”

“Does that mean you’re going to be mean?”

"No. Honest shouldn't be mean. People who are mean in the name of honesty are jerks.”

“Then lots of people are jerks.”

"That's true." Okoye smiled gently. "I like you, and your Daddy, very much. I enjoy spending time with you. But I'm still learning things about you. So sometimes I may suggest or even do things that upset you or you don't like. But I want you to know I never mean to upset you. I'll never force you to do something you don't like.”

Hasana stared back at her. “Promise?”

"I promise. Unless there is an emergency and it is a matter of your safety.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. After a long moment, she asked. “Can I have one bead?”

"Yes. If you tell me what color you like, I will go get one from the market for you.”

Hasana grinned. “I want a red one.”

"I will see it done.”

“I’m going to go find my shoes,” she said excitedly and dashed off.

Idi had been holding his breath through half of that, waiting for a meltdown. But it had been. . . perfect. “Okoye.”

She stood and straightened her shirt. "Was that all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” He reached out, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He really was absolutely and entirely falling for her.

"I'm sure there is a landmine I will trip over eventually. But I am doing my best.”

He stroked his thumb along her cheek. “You are amazing.”

She smiled. "I do try.”

He put an arm around her and tucked her against his side. “Lets go get some breakfast.”

*

Okoye was surprised how well Hasana sat—for nearly two hours—while Okoye braided her hair. They didn’t do much else eventful the rest of the day, but she was very glad she’d taken it off. She was oddly reluctant to go home that night, but it seemed a good idea to do so. Her kittens did miss her.

She had not mentioned her weekend plans to anyone else in the Dora, so it had to be her imagination that Ayo looked amused and possibly smug before the morning staff meeting when she asked, “Good weekend?”

Squinting, she replied, "It was very restful.”

“You do look very rested.” Ayo grinned. You could see every damn one of this woman’s teeth right now. But there was no way T’Challa or Nakia would have said anything.

Okoye's eyes narrowed further. "What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything. I’ve just known you for a long time and this morning you look happier than I’ve seen in what may be years.”

She huffed. "I had a very nice weekend.”

“With some nice company?”

“Yes."

“Good,” she said with a nod, and that was blessedly the last she said about it.

When she met with the King later that morning, he managed to ask her about her weekend in a surprisingly neutral fashion, though he did mention his wife was dying to talk to her.

"I had a very pleasant time," she assured him. "And will stop by to see Nakia later.”

It was the tail end of her day before she managed to stick her head in Nakia’s office. It was much cozier than T’Challa’s, with a big stuffed couch that the she found her friend napping on.

There was a knit blanket on the back of the couch, so Okoye went in to tug it down and cover her. Nakia’s eyes opened—she wasn’t a woman you could sneak up on. “There you are.”

"I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Sit. Tell me about your hike.”

She obeyed, perching on the edge of the couch. "It was very nice. We climbed a waterfall.”

“Did his daughter hold up for it?”

"She did. He carried her up the falls and she fell asleep on the walk back to the car. But for the most part she was a trooper." She smiled fondly. "She's a little warrior.”

“You clearly have great affection for her.”

"I do. She's very sweet. I've promised to pick her up from school one day this week. Her classmates don't believe she knows me.”

Nakia chuckled. “I’d go in uniform.”

"I intend to.”

“Did you get some grownup time, too?”

"I did," she said primly. "I spent the night.”

Nakia looked amused. “Politely holding hands like at sleep away camp?”

"Naturally. With exactly 25 centimeters of space between us.”

She laughed and leaned back. “Wow. You are serious about this one, aren’t you?”

"I am," Okoye said quietly. "He's. . . very special.”

“The more emotionally involved you are with someone, the closer to your chest you keep it. I have, for example, heard far too much detail about every unsatisfactory penis you have ever handled. But I only knew you and W’Kabi had gotten involved because he told T’Challa.” That had of course been a little politically complicated, and Nakia had also been in France at the time, but she wasn’t entirely wrong.

"I am a private person. I always have been. People are always interested in my life and I prefer to keep it my own.”

“I just meant I can tell he matters to you.”

She smiled. "We fit very well, though I don't know if you would think so to look at us.”

“I really want to ask you guys to come to dinner with us, but I realize my marriage and life is not remotely normal and we’re probably pretty intimidating.”

"He has, technically, met you before.”

“That is true. And he knows my husband destroys beds, which is probably tabloid worthy.”

Okoye spread her hands. "And see how he kept that to himself?”

“So, dinner, then? As soon as you are ready?”

"I'll speak with him about it.”

Idi was surprisingly amenable when she asked him. He told her his brother was the only one one of his family who ever came off the mountain, and in return she’d probably have to have dinner with him sometime soon. She’d gone over ostensibly just to talk to him and have dinner. She could have called, so it was barely more than a pretense. Once he put Hasana to bed, they could barely keep their hands off each other.

"We've turned each other into teenagers," she murmured, chuckling.

He tucked his hands behind his head. It was such a male pose, but right now she liked it. HE had some very nice muscles. “It’s the long abstinence. It won’t always be like this.” His eyes perused her, as if he hadn’t just studied her very intimately. “I think.”

"It could just be our chemistry," she said. "We could be doing this at eighty.”

He met her eyes. “Doesn’t sound like a half bad prospect.”

Relieved he hadn't balked at the mention of still being together at eighty, she smiled and nodded. "Sounds quite pleasant to me.” He grinned and reached up to cup the back of her neck to bring her down for a kiss. Sleep was overrated, anyway.

It very swiftly became a habit. Even if she had to work late, she’d swing by after Hasana was asleep. So she was there the morning a few weeks later when Idi’s nanny called in sick, and witnessed the sobbing fit Hasana had when he tried to explain she’d have to go to the after-school care she hated. 

"I could pick her up," she told him quietly after Hasana had gone to her room to calm down. 

“I’ve got an install in the River Province, I won’t be back until dinnertime.”

"I can take her home and feed her. I have bread and melon.”

The look on his face was a mix of hope and relief. “Are you sure?”

"One hundred percent. She told me the kids in her class don't believe she knows me, so I did promise her I'd come by one of these days and prove it.”

He reached out and hugged her. “Thank you, thank you.”

"Any time. I have to go now, but assure her I will be there promptly in the afternoon.”

“I will. And I think you’re amazing. Been a long time since I’ve had help.”

"I'm happy to help. I will see you this evening.”

She knew the King’s schedule was light that day, so she didn’t worry about it. Then he summoned her early afternoon. “Good news, I’m about to liven up your evening with a tactical extraction.” 

She felt a chill. "I. . . what?”

“I need to go rescue a War Dog being held by a separatist group in Afghanistan. It’s perilous enough to go today, and I’m taking you with me.”

Completely unable to believe what she was about to do, Okoye said, "I have a small problem.”

He smiled. “We’re not going to make you put anything on your head.”

"No. I. . . I had a prior engagement this afternoon.”

T’Challa stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she was saying it. He probably couldn’t either. He stood up, fiddling with the necklace that contained his suit. “You’ll have to cancel it.”

She sighed and reminded herself the King was a reasonable man and might be able to help her think of a solution. "Idi's nanny is sick. I promised I would pick up his daughter from school. She doesn't like her after school care. I need to find someone else to get her, Idi won't be able to make it back here in time.”

He paused and looked at her. “Nakia mentioned this to me. Her friends don’t believe she knows you.”

"Yes. She's in the special education school. She's very smart and doing well, but having trouble making friends. They seemed to think she was telling stories." She paused. "She also does poorly with change.”

Okoye could see him considering. “We can pick her up on the way, swing back and drop her off here with Nakia.”

Idi was going to laugh when she told him this story. She hoped. "That sounds workable.”

She was the one that piloted the Royal Talon—to the degree that it needed piloting—and contacted the school in advance to explain what she was doing. The rather astonished principle told her to land on the lawn.

And, so, at precisely 2:15, the Royal Talon landed on the lawn of the Little Hands primary school. Okoye walked down the ramp in her full Dora regalia and waved brightly to an astonished looking Hasana and her classmates.

After a moment, Hasana came at her at a full run, throwing her arms around her waist when she got there. Okoye put a hand on her back and rubbed gently. "It's good to see you, little monkey. But we have to go. The king and I have an appointment.”

She nodded, and turned to wave at the other kids, still staring open-mouthed. There was a sudden burst of gasping and pointing, and Okoye turned her head to see T’Challa had come to the top of the ramp to wave.

Okoye took Hasana's bag from her and guided her up the ramp, herding both her and the king into the jet. "I have to go with his Highness on a mission," she told Hasana. "But I'm going to take you to the palace to stay with my friend Nakia, all right? She'll give you all the melon you can eat and she's much better at hair than I am.”

She nodded, and then turned and looked at T’Challa. “Are you the King?”

"I am." He bowed a little. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Hasana.”

“You should build a train to Jabari Land.”

Okoye covered her eyes with a hand, but T'Challa looked amused. "We are working on the logistics of that.”

“Can I see your claws?”

He grinned and held out his hands, which were promptly covered in his suit fabric.

Deciding she was in good hands, Okoye went to the front to pilot them back to the palace. Nakia and Ayo met them on the landing pad to take Hasana, who went with less fuss than expected, though was more excited about meeting another Dora than meeting the Queen.

She texted Idi before taking off, so he'd know where to look for his daughter if he finished work early. Then she and T'Challa were off to Afghanistan.

“She is extremely smart,” he commented to her as they flew.

"Yes, she is," Okoye said, not bothering to hide her pride. "She's very clever. And her memory is remarkable.”

“She reminds me a bit of my sister at that age. Apparently she has a map of where she thinks the train should go, including where to cross the river so it doesn’t disrupt fish hatching grounds.”

"She misses her family. They don't get to see them as often as either of them would like."

“We are working on it, as I said. But regardless of how your relationship with her father turns out, if she needs any doors opened for educational opportunities I am happy to help.” 

"Thank you," she said. "I will make sure he knows that.”


	8. Chapter 8

Okoye had texted him that she’d had a last minute mission and he was to pick up Hasana at the palace. Which was easier said than done, as it wasn’t exactly a place you could ring the doorbell. It was well past dinner time when someone finally showed him up to the royal quarters.

Where he got to meet both the Queen, and the Queen Mother, and learned his daughter had thrown a tantrum, broken what was probably a priceless antique, and then locked herself in the bathroom.

"I'm very sorry," the Queen Mother said. "Okoye warned us of some of your daughter's preferences, but I think perhaps we didn't give her enough warning between transitions.”

He didn’t think he’d ever been more mortified in his life. “No, I’m sorry. I should have been here sooner.” He eyed the shattered vase, hoping they didn’t ask him to pay for it. Then he went and crouched by the door to the bathroom she was in. “Hasana. It’s Baba. Can you come out?”

"No!" she yelled back.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. Do you want to go home and have dinner?”

There was a pause. "I was supposed to have dinner with Okoye.”

“I know. But she had to go work.”

"She said she'd be back.”

“I know, baby. She will be. Her work just ran really late.”

There was silence on the other side, then Hasana said, “Maybe she’s never coming back, like Mama.”

Idi sighed and sat on the floor with his back against the door. Where he was reminded he had an audience, though they had politely backed away. He couldn’t promise Hasana that wouldn’t happen, of course. He didn’t even know what kind of mission she was on—it could be anything from a diplomatic meeting to a firefight for all he knew. 

Before he could come up with something that was both reassuring and honest, the Queen piped up, “They are safely on their way back.”

He gave her a nod of thanks. “Did you year that?” he asked the door.

A beat of silence. "Can we wait and see her?”

He lowered his voice. “We’re at the palace. We’ve inconvenienced the Queen enough. We need to wait at home.”

"We keep a room for Okoye," the Queen offered. "You could wait there. We could have food sent.”

“Are you sure it’s not a bother?” he asked, feeling like the largest bother in the country.

She smiled. "Okoye is my oldest friend. She has saved both my life and my husband's. You and your daughter are dear to her, so you are dear to me. You can set up a fort in the grand dining hall and you would not be a bother.”

Idi smiled back, relaxing a little. “Thank you.” He turned back to the door. “Can we wait in Okoye’s room here?”

In answer, she slowly opened the door to the bathroom and nodded at him. She lifted her arms so he’d pick her up, and he carried her where the Queen led them. It was really more of a suite than a room, with the sitting area and a bedroom with a door. She showed him how to order food from a panel in the wall. Melon and injera bread and some noodles for him. “I can’t thank you enough, and I’m so sorry about what she broke.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled at patted her round belly. “It’s about time I got on the childproofing.”

"Ms. Nakia is going to have a baby," Hasana informed him solemnly.

He opened his mouth to tell her she really shouldn’t be addressing the Queen by her given name, but then he realized if this relationship was happening, this was where they were at and he should get used to it. “Indeed she is. Please tell her highness thank you and good night.”

"Thank you and good night," she repeated. "Sorry about the vase.”

He was surprised by the spontaneous apology, and the Queen nodded and said, “Apology accepted.”

Idi thanked her and apologized again, and then settled in to wait for their food. He would deal with the conversation they needed to have tomorrow. Hasana stuffed herself, and then began to droop. Meltdowns took a lot out of her.

“How about you lay down on the bed,” he offered. “And I can wake you up when Okoye gets back.”

She frowned at him. “Promise?"

“I promise.”

She still looked a little skeptical, but let him lead her over to the bed and rub her back till she slept. Once she was out, he tiptoed back into the living room, shut the door, and sat on the couch. It had been an exhausting day. So exhausting he closed his eyes for just a moment. . . and woke up again when the hall door opened.

Okoye smiled when she saw him startle, closing the door behind her. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Nakia told me it was a rough evening.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

"You don't have to be sorry. I'm the one who left her with strangers and messed up her routine-“

“Hey,” he said, cutting her off. “You did the best you could.” He stood up. “Thank you.”

She sighed, but smiled and reached out to hug him. "Did you get her to sleep?”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I did, but I promised to wake her when she got home.” He noticed, close up, that she was very dusty, and also had a cut above her left ear. She must have really been in a fight. “You know your head is bleeding?” 

"Oh." She lifted a hand and checked it. "I'll clean up before she sees me.”

“Come on,” he said, giving her a tug. “I’m an expert at this.”

She chuckled, but followed him into the bathroom and obediently sat on the edge of the tub. He dug around in the drawers and found a neat little first aid kit. “I don’t think it’s bad enough to need any kind of wound healing,” he said as he cleaned it.

"No, I don't even know when it happened. It doesn't hurt.”

He lifted one of her hands, noticing her knuckles were scraped up, and kissed them. “Clearly you had an interesting night.”

"You could say that.”

Idi smiled and taped a small bandage over the cut, almost entirely for Hasana’s sake when she saw her. “Well, I am glad you are home safe.”

She smiled and reseted her forehead on his. "So am I.”

He kissed her for a moment, just because he could. Then he asked, “You want me to run the shower for you?”

"I do. But I fear that would end in us doing something that would significantly delay me saying hello to Hasana.”

“She is pretty out. She was falling asleep in her dinner.” He wiped a smudge of dirt off her cheek. “You’ve got time.”

She smiled. "Shower it is.”

He stood up to put the water on. It was a very fancy shower, the kind where water sprayed out from many directions. Hot water came out immediately, of course. It was the palace. He turned his head, happy to watch her disassemble her armor.

She laid it all out on a low bench, pausing to stretch and pop a few joints before peeling off her underthings. "That's going to need to get washed," she muttered, mostly to herself.

“I’m guessing that doesn’t go through a regular wash cycle?” he asked.

"No. Shuri invented a sonic washer of some sort. Vibrates the dirt off." She shrugged. "I've learned not to question her.”

She was naked now, and he was enjoying the view so much all he got out was, “Mmm.”

Okoye laughed, shaking her head. "Are you joining me in the shower?”

“Well, you are wounded. You might need some help washing your back.”

"I wouldn't say no to that.”

He grinned and peeled off his own clothes off while she stepped into the spray. When he followed her he pulled the glass door closed behind them. There was plenty of space in there, but still cozy and intimate in the spraying water and billowing steam. She stepped closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing in contentment. It was a simple little gesture, with no heat or ulterior motives behind it. He suspected few people got to see her vulnerable and tired.

Idi held her and rubbed her back. “Long day, eh?”

She nodded. "Everyone came home alive. But I'm tired.”

There was soap on one of the little shelves up high, and he lathered up his hands so he could wash her. He aimed his touch as much for comfort as seduction, mostly just wanting her to relax and feel better. She sighed and he saw her shoulders unclench. She made a halfhearted attempt at washing him in return, but for the most part he was content to take care of her. 

When he was done he held her close again, and when she hugged him she held on very tight. “I missed this,” he whispered. “When I was alone.”

"Washing up a woman after battle?”

He chuckled. “Well, that too. But more generally, someone to care for. Who needs it but doesn’t ask.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter. "That describes me quite well.”

He kissed her temple. “Then we fit very well.”

"I think we fit just perfectly," she agreed. He found her mouth and kissed her, letting his hands wander a little. Just enough to be an invitation but not to push. She all but purred into his mouth, pressing herself full against him.

“Good,” he whispered, cupping her ass and lifting her a little closer.

She laughed. "I appreciate it was a question.”

“I never assume,” he replied, cupping one of her breasts in his hand. “But I do want you.”

"I want you, too," she murmured. "Especially after a mission.”

He kissed her jaw and her throat. “Remind yourself you’re alive?”

"Mmm. Something like that. Feel a bit like a woman again, and not a weapon.”

He ran his fingers following droplets of water down her spine, and she shivered. “I can help with that.”

She nuzzled at his jaw a little, pressing close to him and deliberately rubbing against him. "You usually do.”

He lifted her at her waist, up against the slick stone wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. He could feel how wet she was sliding against him. The washing had very clearly turned her on as much as him. He cupped his hands under her thighs and shifted her enough to ease inside her. She sighed softly in his ear, body clenching around him as he filled her.

Her breath had quickened and she was holding him tightly to help support herself. He took a moment to just enjoy the slick feel of her surrounding him, before shifting his hips to ease out of her and back in. She gasped a little every time he thrust into her, a quiet sound he could barely hear over the water. But he felt the bit of her nails on his back, felt the way she rocked into him at the end of each long, slow stroke.

The water was still pounding down on them, encasing them in their own little world. Okoye gasped out his name and her legs tightened on him. He buried himself deep so he could enjoy the first intense spasms of her climax. He held onto her as his followed, white and hot and blinding, the feel of her pulsing around him making it that much better. 

She made a noise of utter contentment, nuzzling his shoulder as he slowly let her legs drop so she could stand. He kissed her temple. “Better?”

"Much," she assured him. "I can sleep well.”

He didn’t want to let her go. “You wanna come home with us?”

"You could stay here with me," she offered.

Idi sighed. “I wish I could, but I’m not sure how Hasana would handle it. She certainly won’t sleep on the couch.”

"I understand. Yes, I'll come home with you.”

They got out of the shower with some reluctance, dried off and got dressed. He went in to wake his daughter up, and she demanded to see Okoye—and was overjoyed when he explained she was coming home with them.

When Okoye finished packing, she came out and Hasana threw herself at her. She picked the little girl up easily and he took her bag from her. "Shall we go?”

Idi nodded, and opened the door. Hasana didn’t want to be put down, so Okoye carried her. “Tomorrow will you braid my hair and put beads in it?”

"Absolutely. His Highness has given me the day off to spend with you."

Idi turned in the hallway. “I didn’t know that.”

She nodded. "It used to be tradition when we had had a dangerous mission. When I was alone I would come in and do paperwork. But as I have people to spend my time with. . ."

He grinned. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

"Do you have to work?"

He chuckled. “No, I took it off because today was such a big job. Hasana does have school, though.”

Her head popped up off Okoye’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see my friends. They must be so jealous.”

"Don't gloat too much," Okoye said.

“Yes, General,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

*

In the morning they made breakfast and the took Hasana to school. Okoye had a flock of little girls surrounding her asking questions. They seemed disappointed and/or confused that she was in civilian clothes—though honestly many people were surprised that she didn’t simply live in her uniform.

"I needed to leave it at the palace so it could be cleaned of the blood of my enemies," she told them solemnly. This was met with a sea of awed faces.

Hasana’s teacher came over to try and herd the kids inside. She smiled at the two of them. “Hasana has been telling us the head of the Dora Milaje comes to her house for sleepovers and to teach her how to use a spear.” Behind her, Idi made a choking noise. Jabari were kind of conservative about certain things. “I was writing up a note about how she’s really progressing with her imaginative play, and then I look up the King is on the front lawn.”

Okoye smiled. "I promised I would pick her up to prove I was real. His Highness happens to have a flare for the dramatic."

“We all had the thrill if our lives.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

She returned the salute. "Thank you. It will not be the last."

“That is lovely to hear.” She got the kids moving inside, Hasana surrounded by friends.

They went back to Okoye’s apartment so she could see her poor kittens. “You know, you could bring them over,” Idi said. “Hasana loves them.”

She rolled a ball with bells in it for Shuri to chase. "I suppose." She watched the kittens wrestle, then shifted to lean against his legs where he sat on the couch. "We are. . . something serious."

“Yes, we are,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

"I had thought, last night when we were going to bed, that maybe I should look for an apartment closer to you. But someone built me this lovely cat tree." She gestured to it, pausing again. "It's too soon to talk about living together, isn't it?"

“Probably. Though the way we’re nestling into each other’s lives it’s not the craziest line of thinking.” He tipped his head back. “I don’t know how relationships you start on your own are supposed to. . . go. My people are very big on Arrangements. Far more than down here. If I stayed in Jabari Land I’d expect to get a second one myself.”

"Your Arrangements, I imagine they usually end in a fast marriage?"

“Yes. Sometimes if you’re young you’ll know earlier because your families are close—Kesi and I knew a couple years while they waited for us to mature. But I live in a tiny village. Most people, especially in Gorilla City, have a week from meeting to wedding. And your partner has to be seriously unacceptable to say no.”

Well, at least his family wouldn't fuss about it not being long enough. "We should probably meet each other's families."

He sighed. “That’s going to be interesting.”

She rested her chin on his knee. "Are they going to hate me?"

“A certain number of them distrust lowlanders in general, and the Border Tribe in particular. I don’t think it’s personal.”

"I can handle them. It will not be the first time I have stolen someone's baby boy from them."

“Previous in-laws didn’t like you?”

"W'Kabi's parents died when we were young, I don't know what they would have thought of me. The aunt that raised him and I are very different people," she said diplomatically.

Idi chuckled. “We’ll get through it,” he said. “As long as you’re prepared. You’re made of the sternest stuff I’ve ever seen.”

"It will be fine. I think my mother will be cautious but welcoming to you."

“Caution is fair. Considering your history.”

"I think so. Mama is nothing if not practical. And she will see that you make me happy.”

He nodded. “How about we start with your mother?”

"You want to get the easy one out of the way first, I can respect that.”

“You, I take it, tackle the hards things first?”

She lifted a shoulder. "Depends on the fight. Sometimes it's best to whittle away at the weaker opponents to focus your full effort on the true enemy. Sometimes it's best to cut the head off the snake and watch the rest crumble. Each battle is different.”

Before he could answer, his Kimoyo beads chimed. Idi frowned at them, and apparently decided there wasn’t anything Okoye shouldn’t see, because he brought the image up. It was a man she didn’t recognize, though it was hard to see his face through an enormous plume of dreadlocks. Idi looked surprised, but not upset. “Hello, Amandi.”

“When I made that crack about your new lady friend being the head of the Dora Milaje it was a joke.” 

Idi started laughing. “Well, gossip apparently travels.”

“So I’m not being pranked in some way?”

In response, Idi turned his wrist so the man could see her. “Okoye, meet my idiot brother.”

She waved. "Hello Idiot Brother. I'm Idi's new lady friend.”

Amandi’s eyes widened. “I meant no disrespect, Ma’am.”

She liked a man with proper respectful fear of her. "I'll let it slide. Since you're family.”

“So this has made it up the mountain?” Idi asked.

“There is some blog devoted to literally real-time updates on what the royal family is doing. A stop at a primary school to pick up its only Jabari student was noted. People back home were able to fill in the details.”

He sighed. “So everyone knows?” 

"The whole damn mountain, brother. I'm surprised I'm the first to contact you.”

“Well, you are the only one who uses the beads. I’m not on a computer terminal much.”

"You probably have some interesting emails next time you sign on.”

“Fantastic.” He gave Okoye and apologetic look, then asked his brother, “How’s Mama?"

"Calm and welcoming, of course." Amandi tilted his head to glare at his brother. "How do you think she's doing? She's turned into a mother from a British novel. Flutters of nerves and weeping for her poor wayward son.”

“Call me when she gets her shit together, and then I will come visit.”

"You're killing me man, she's driving me nuts.”

“I’m not up for her drama. But I’d love to see you if you and Naija want to bring the kids down one of these days.”

He made a face but nodded after a moment. "I'll talk to her. It'd be nice to get away from Mom for a while.”

“Let me know. And good luck.”

"Thanks, you too." He nodded again, this time in Okoye's direction. "Ma'am."

She inclined her head gracefully. The image dissolved, and Idi rubbed his eyes. She stretched and climbed up on the couch to wrap her arms around him in comfort. He pulled her into his lap, for a moment just accepting the hug. Eventually his hands began to wander.

"I see you've cheered up," she chuckled.

“You’re in my lap,” he said like it explained everything.

"It was your idea.”

She felt his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. “We are alone. . .”

"So we are." She wiggled deliberately. "And we will be for several more hours.”


	9. Chapter 9

Christening her apartment proved to be a lovely way to spend an afternoon. The couch was quick and hot, and then they moved to her bedroom to take their time. 

They drifted afterwards, and she was happy just to lay with her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. 

“Do you have a second bedroom here?” he murmured.

"I do. I use it as a workout and meditation room.”

“I was just thinking if you had space for Hasana, we could stay here sometimes.”

She was quiet, listening to his heart. "We could make it into a very nice room for her.”

He rubbed her back. “I like it here. I like the view. And I like being where you are.”

Okoye smiled and sighed softly. "I like having another heartbeat in the house.”

They picked up Hasana from school, who was very excited about sleepovers and setting up her room. It was perfectly natural to go shopping that weekend to get it furnished and decorated.

Sunday night, she sat and braided Hasana's hair, weaving in the beads they'd bought at the market, while Idi cooked in the kitchen and the kittens played on their tree. It was about as perfect an evening as she could ever remember having.

Monday morning, after roll call and assignments she had a few minutes to spare and called her mother.

“Hello, my dear.” The way her mother was smiling, Okoye was sure the gossip had reached her.

"Hello, Mama. I was wondering what you would think of a visit?”

“That would be lovely.” She paused. “Will you be bringing along any friends?”

"You know I thought I might.”

“So there is some truth to the things that reach my ears?”

Okoye sighed. "There is. I've been seeing a man. It's serious. Very serious. He has a little girl that I adore. I think it's time you met them.”

She nodded. “Is he handsome?”

"Very. And tall and strong.”

“Then you should definitely come out to visit me. The old biddies that hang out at the train station will get that information back to your good-for-nothing ex’s people is short order.”

Okoye chuckled. "This weekend?”

“Sounds better than spending it just me and the goats.”

"All right. I'll talk to him and message you when we're on our way.” 

Her mother disappeared just as she heard knocking on her door. When she called to open it, Nakia came in. She’d reached that point in her pregnancy where her wardrobe had become loose dresses and she’d abandoned shoes. “So I’ve been officially grounded,” she said as she lowered herself onto Okoye’s office couch.

"T'Challa must be ecstatic.”

“He is.” She stretched her legs out. “But you know what? So am I. I feel like I have become an actual elephant, only with worse balance. And I don’t want to be anywhere without air conditioning.”

"That's valid." Her ankles looked rather painfully swollen, but Okoye decided not to mention that. "You're mostly stomach now, seems a good time to lounge on a chaise and have servants feed you fruit.”

“There are times it’s good to be a queen.” She grinned. “I did want to ask you something.”

"I will not feed you fruit.”

She laughed. “No, no. There is a tradition in my tribe where when a new baby is born, they are dipped in the river. It’s a big ceremony. Back in the past, before sanitation was priority, the baby would literally be carried from the birthing room to the river. The role of the carrier has remained as part of the tradition. She is the first person to hold the baby after the parents, and she carries the baby into the water in the ceremony. It is usually the mother’s sister.”

"I see." She knew where this was going, and was both touched and vaguely embarrassed. "You're sure you don't want Shuri to do it?”

“For a number of reasons. I love her but I don’t think she’d be a helpful presence in the birthing room, she in California and trying to get her here would be stressful if my labor is early or fast, and my father is still— _still_ —intermittently grumbling about her comedy routine at T’Challa’s coronation. Baba is the chief of the River Tribe, the ceremony is a serious and big thing. Plus you are also the closest thing _I_ have to a sister.”

Okoye smiled. "You aren't afraid I'll get all general during labor?”

Nakia laughed. “You and my mother can compete to out-General each other.” Nakia’s mother had once, forty years ago, held Okoye’s job.

"I would be honored, sister.”

“Good. And I actually have one more question.” When Okoye raised her eyebrows, Nakia asked, “Would you like to move your rooms in the palace to one with a second bedroom?”

She smiled again. "I think that would be wise." It occurred to her, that Nakia's request would have been far more bittersweet before she had Idi and Hasana in her life.

“Seemed apt. You should bring them to ceremony, too.” She paused. “Not the birth.”

"He might be more helpful than me. But yes, I'm sure they'd love to come. I will need him to get used to attending royal events.”

That seemed to make Nakia happy. “Yes you will.”

"Thank you for watching Hasana the other day, I'm sorry it ended poorly.”

“Oh.” Nakia waved her hand. “Don’t apologize. I need the practice.”

"It's been hard for him. She's picky about who she'll let watch her. And her nanny is. . ." Okoye made a face. "Not always accommodating.”

“Maybe she needs a better nanny.”

"I think she does, but I'm not quite at making hiring decisions for him.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to offer. We may be getting two, given our schedules and travel, so off-hours are covered. Though the Queen Mother keeps saying she will pitch in, and she does live here.” 

"I'm sure she's looking forward to having a baby in the house." Ramonda was a doting mother and thrilled about the prospect of a grandchild.

“Very much. Since I’ve got someone looking into this already, would you like me to see if they can locate anyone with special needs experience?”

Okoye was a little wary of taking over Idi's life. She had a big personality and was used to getting her way - something W'kabi had found charming early on and complained about towards the end - and knew it was easy to accidentally steam roll someone. On the other hand, she knew he was feeling overwhelmed with Hasana's after school care and the juggling he had to do. "Maybe that would be a gentler way of coming at it. That you were already looking and I thought it might help to get some research done.”

“I will see it done.”

"Thank you, Nakia.”

“You’re welcome. Now come help me up.”

*

Hasana’s bad days had been growing steadily rarer, and so far Okoye had not really seen one—other than the secondhand story of the mishap at the palace, and things Idi told her. Idi was starting to feel complacent. Comfortable. Maybe they’d someday get past it.

Then they went to the city central station to catch a train out to the border to meet Okoye’s family. It might have been the crowds, or a bad night’s sleep, or any combination of several things. But she decided she didn’t want to get on the train, and attempting to coax her to resulted in a full body meltdown on the floor. In the middle of the train doorways while people were trying to board.

People stepped around them, giving him looks ranging from curiosity to judgement. Okoye mostly looked flummoxed when he risked a glance at her. But she crouched down with him and said quietly, "Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I assume throwing me under the train isn’t an option,” he muttered. The employee manning the train doors glared at him, and he sighed. He wrapped his arms around Hasana and picked her up, which increased the shrieking and kicking, and carried her back onto the platform. 

Okoye ducked her flying feet deftly. She did manage to kick some other man, who whipped around like Idi had done it on purpose to start a fight.

Okoye quickly stepped between them and arched a brow until he backed off and headed for the train.

The train pulled out and the crowd thinned out. Idi sat on a bench with a still crying Hasana on his lap and Okoye stood with them, in parade rest, like a bodyguard. There wasn’t much he could do until Hasana calmed down, but she at least let him rub her back while she did so.

Eventually she calmed to little hiccups and Okoye produced a handkerchief to wipe her face with.

“Why didn’t you want to get on the train?” he asked gently.

She snuffled inelegantly a few times. "It was loud. And there were too many people.”

“We could put your ear covers on. But I can’t help the people.”

"They pushed and crowded. And one lady had stinky perfume." Okoye tilted her head in what looked like agreement.

“What about if I carried you?”

She looked skeptical. "People might still push."

"No," Okoye said. "They won’t."

“She’ll protect us,” Idi told his daughter. “She protects the King.” He believed it, too. She could part a crowd with a look.

Hasana looked up at her. "Promise?"

Okoye saluted. "It would be my honor to protect you on the train.”

He felt his throat close. Sometimes it was so nice not to be doing this alone. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

She gave him a soft smile. "It is my honor," she replied.

“You should tell your mother we’ll be late. And apologize for me.”

"I'll let her know. Would you like drinks or snacks while we wait, I can get some.”

“Melon?” Hasana asked.

She nodded. "If they have it, I'll get it." She bent and kissed Idi's temple before walking over to the train depot, fiddling with her beads.

He sighed, with no small measure of relief. Help really was wonderful. “She takes good care of us,” he said to Hasana.

"I like her," Hasana agreed. "She's always calm. It makes it easier for me to be calm.”

“I like her, too. Very, very much.”

She fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Are you gonna marry her?”

“That’s a very serious question. What would you think of it?”

"I think I'd like it," she said slowly. "I like spending time with her. I'd miss her a lot if we stopped.”

“I’d miss her, too,” he replied. “I hope she stays around a long time.”

Hasana nodded. "You should say something so no one else snatches her up.”

“What do you think I should say?”

"You could tell her how you feel and how we'll miss her if she went away. And that we're better with her than we were before.”

That might be the truest thing anyone every said to him. Hasana had a way of seeing to the heart of things. “We are, aren’t we?”

"I think so." She paused, squinting down the boardwalk to where Okoye was returning, laden with snacks. "Did you know a triangle is the most stable shape? Three points equally balance a load.”

“I did. I do build things.” He paused, watching her walk towards them. “But I never thought of that applying to people, too.”

"People are part of nature, like everything else."

Okoye reached them and crouched in on smooth move, holding out a container full of Hasana's favorite melon. "Mission successful.”

She beamed, and took the container. “Thank you.”

"You're very welcome." She handed Idi a cup of coffee and a fried dumpling he was fond of. "Mama said to take our time and if we're lucky there'll be a newborn goat for Hasana to play with when we get there.”

“You’re not going to eat it, are you?” Hasana asked. Idi choked on a mouthful of coffee.

Okoye didn't even react. "No, my mother uses her goats for milk. She makes soaps and lotions. Though some of our neighbors have meat goats.”

“Meat is gross.”

She sipped her own coffee. "I know you feel that way, and I respect that. But eating goat is a part of the culture of the Border tribe, just like being a vegetarian is part of being Jabari. It's important to respect other people's customs and culture, even if you don't entirely understand it.”

“Things that are different are hard,” Hasana said solemnly.

"I know. And I would never ask you to eat meat. I just ask you don't tell other people it's gross. Deal?”

She seemed to consider a moment, then nodded. “Deal.”

"Good. Eat your melon, the next train is in fifteen minutes.”

Hasana inhaled her fruit. Idi reached across the bench for Okoye’s hand. She squeezed his hand and gave him a little smile and wink. Someday, if someone asked him the exact moment he knew he was in love with her, it was going to be this one, on a train station bench.

They got on the next train without a fuss, and Hasana seemed happy to wear her ear covers and look out the window at the changing scenery whooshing by.

The Border Tribes were the last few stations on the run, and Okoye got them off on the third to last one. Her mother met them, smiling and waving when she spotted her daughter. She was built like Okoye, but softened with age and childbearing. Her hair was tightly braided, threaded with silver.

Okoye hugged her tightly, then turned to them. "Mama, this is Idi and his daughter Hasana. This is my mother, Kioni.”

“It is an honor to meet you,” Idi said.

"A pleasure to meet you both," she replied, taking his hand. "Okoye glows when she speaks of you.”

“I will make every effort to live up to that.”

She smiled and Okoye grinned. "Shall we go? There's a baby goat who couldn't wait to meet you.”

Hasana clapped her hands. “I want to meet the baby goat.”

"You can help me name her if you like," Kioni said, holding out a hand. Hasana took it, and they walked off together. Idi put his arm around Okoye and they followed.

Her mother had an old fashioned truck, since the Border Tribe had always had to maintain the cover of Wakanda being a developing country. Once inside it was clear the vehicle had been souped up with modern tech, driving smooth and silent over the rougher roads.

"Nakia is ready to pop," Okoye told her on the way out. "She's asked me to be present for the birth.”

“And will you?” Kioni asked.

"I will, though I don't know how much help I'll be.”

“I believe they have doctors for the helping part.”

Okoye made a hilarious face behind her mother's back. "Yes, well. Her mother and I will have to compete for General duties.”

“Maybe you’re there to catch the King if he faints.”

"Or protect him if she tries to strangle him.”

“That’s certainly a possibility.”

Okoye looked over at Idi. "Are men in the room in Jabari deliveries?”

He nodded. “We are. It’s tradition to, ah, catch the baby. No one else should hold the baby before it’s parents.” He remembered how terrified he’d been at Hasana’s birth.

"See? I told Nakia you'd be more help than I will.”

He laughed. “In many cases, if the first birth was smooth, subsequent children the doctor or midwife are not in the room. It’s just the two of you. If we’d had a second, we would have done that.”

"Okoye's father fainted," Kioni said. "He managed the birth all right, but the afterbirth was apparently too visceral for him.”

“I have a high tolerance for that sort of thing,” Idi said. “But it was very bloody.”

"I am never having babies," Hasana said, sounding traumatized just from the conversation.

Idi laughed. “It is both not all that bad, and worth whatever bad there is.”

“No,” she said. “I want to be a Dora, and they are not allowed to have babies.”

"Actually," Okoye said. "The King has officially changed the rule. Dora are now offered maternity leave and the chance to return after having a baby. So if you decide to have children, it will not effect your position.”

That was a piece of data Idi had no known. It was a topic that had not come up in their conversations about the future, mostly because he’s assumed it was simply off the table. Maybe it still was. Since they had an audience, he didn’t say anything. They could discuss it later.

Kioni had no such restraint. “I didn’t know that! When did that happen?”

"I had to more than double our numbers with the Princess in America and Nakia and T'Challa traveling so much. It made sense as a recruitment feature. And T'Challa wanted to end any traditions that had no modern benefits.”

“I always wanted grandchildren,” she said. “But not enough to want my daughter to stop doing what she loved.” She glanced at her daughter. “In retrospect that says something about your ex, I think.”

Okoye smirked but Idi noticed she very carefully wasn't looking at him. "I think it says a lot about him.”

They arrived at Kioni’s house before the conversation could continue further. It was very rural, there being a decent distance between properties and plenty of land. The house and barn backed up to a hill that was scattered with goats. A part of the hill that probably belonged to the neighbors was full of a large flock of sheep. 

Something about it kind of reminded Idi of home.

"Would you care for something to drink and snack on?" Kioni said. "Or straight to the barn for baby goat?”

“Baby goat!” Hasana said immediately.

"All right then." They trudged out to the barn to find a mama goat nestled in one of the stall, a wobbly legged kid standing next to her. Hasana squeaked and went over, seeming to take to Okoye’s mother as quickly as she had to Okoye. Idi didn’t get it, but damn if he wasn’t grateful. She needed more people in her life.

Okoye leaned on his arm, watching her mother teach Hasana about goats. "You're smiling adorably.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “The scene in front of me is adorable.”

"Mama has always had a way with small things. Human and animal alike.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad we came out here.”

"Me too," she said quietly, wrapping an arm around his waist to hug him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my pasting fail, but I've fixed it.


	10. Chapter 10

It was late when they got back from the city. Hasana had spent the day meeting animals and learning how to weave blankets and even got to ride the neighbor’s rhinoceros. She was thoroughly worn out and slept the entire train ride. They went back to Okoye’s apartment and tucked her into her bed.

“So do I meet your mother’s approval?” Idi asked when he came back out from putting her down.

"She was very complimentary," Okoye assured him. "Though mostly she wants to adopt Hasana.”

“We are kind of a package deal.”

"It's a good package.”

He sat on the couch next to her. “On the way out, she told me that despite being Jabari, I was still better than the last one.”

She laughed. "Well, low bar, but good to know you've cleared it. I doubt my welcome will be as warm.”

“We’ll handle it. Amandi likes you.” He watched her a moment. “On the topic of families. . .”

Her brows arched. “Yes?"

“I never brought it up because I assumed it was off the table. And I admit it now sounds like I might be stepping on a landmine.” He sighed. “But if we are serious we should at least probably discuss it."

"Oh. You and I having a family?”

“Hypothetically in the future.”

She nodded, looking out at the city. "I think I would like to have a child or two.”

“But it is a sore spot?”

"A bit," she admitted. "My feelings on it are complicated. W'Kabi and I fought about it quite a lot in the last days. It was that frustrating sort of arguing in which no one is entirely right or wrong but there's also no good answer.”

“Kesi and debated it a long time. It was a year and a half on the sidelines for her, and then another six months getting back up to full fighting shape. I felt it was her choice to make, since she took on all the sacrifices.”

"It would be similar for me. Though as general, I have the luxury of doing desk work for most of my time out of the field." Not guarding T'Challa would be hard, but she worried more about being bored and stir crazy. "And with him and Nakia having children I will need to reassess and add to the family guard team." She looked at him. "It is not the end of the world it once was.”

“I would like more,” he said. “But I am also happy with what I have.”

"Then perhaps we should say we're open to the conversation. When we get there."

“Sounds perfectly fair to me.”

Idi put off the visit with his family as long as he could. It wasn't that he didn't love them. It was that they were overwhelming and pushy and a whole lot of other things that he found himself less in the mood to deal with. Not being lonely in the lowlands had made going home as often seem less necessary. For a bit, anyway.

“It’s become impossible to avoid,” he said one evening with a sigh.

"Are they clamoring for a visit?"

“It’s been months since I’ve been back and my mother was already nagging me. Now that the family knows about us. . .”

"Well. . . we should either go in the next week or two or we'll have to wait until Nakia's baby is born."

“Travel takes so long, we’ll need to stay overnight,” he told her.

Unless they traveled by a different method. She’d been known to borrow transportation from time to time from her boss.

"Will we be sleeping in your childhood bedroom?"

“I still have a house on my parents property. I think they are keeping it in forlorn hope. Well, I suppose it wasn’t entirely forlorn until I met you.” He winced. “That might actually be worse than my childhood bedroom.” 

"Is it. . . Is it the house you shared with Kesi?"

Idi sighed. “Yeah, it is. Furniture is different. I sold nearly everything I owned to finance moving down here. I didn’t want to bring it anyway. The wood was saturated with grief. My family cobbled together second hand things to furnish it for when we visited.”

"All right. We can stay there, or I can speak to T'Challa about borrowing a jet. It's up to you."

His eyebrows went up. “You can borrow a jet?”

"I'm the General, technically I can commandeer a jet, but asking nicely usually works."

“Hasana sleeps better in her own bed. We can blame her.” 

"Let me know when, and I'll see it done."

“If next weekend works for you, I’ll set it up.”

She took a moment to check T'Challa's schedule on her beads. He was staying very close to home with Nakia approaching her due date, so it was wide open. "I'll let you know for certain tomorrow, but it shouldn't be a problem."

He leaned over to kiss her. “Thank you.”

"You're very welcome." She wrapped her arms around him. "Now. Would you like to go to bed?"

"I can't think of anything I'd like more."

T'Challa gave her one of his most annoying smiles when she asked to borrow the jet. "Meeting his family?"

"Well, he already met my mother and received her seal of approval. It was time to get over with meeting his."

"I am happy to help in any way I can."

"Thank you." She paused and studied him. "How are you feeling about your impending fatherhood?"

"I cannot wait to meet her. I don't know if it would do for a king to admit he's nervous," he added.

"Not even to his favorite guard?"

He sighed. "I find it as intimidating as assuming the throne. And look how that turned out."

Okoye sympathized. "Your daughter will probably not come out trying to usurp you. So there's that.”

“My daughter, yes. Nakia’s daughter I am less certain of.”

"You have a point there. I'll train her guards well.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure all will be well in the end. It’s the waiting that gets you.”

"No one enjoys waiting. Being in limbo." She considered a moment. "Change is nice, though. Progress.”

He turned all the way around to look at her. “Who are you, and where did you bury Okoye’s body?”

She lifted a shoulder. "Love does funny things to people.”

“So it does, General, so it does.”

"It is not where I thought I'd be. But the journey was worth the destination.”

Okoye reminded herself of that as she landed the jet on the side of a mountain in Jabari Land. She had been with T’Challa on visits to Gorilla City, but Idi’s family lived deeper in mountains and at a higher altitude. The air was thin. It was windy and cold and yet his entire family seemed to have come outside to watch the landing.

"I haven't felt this judged since I got my piloting assessment," she muttered, carefully lacing the jet between a couple of peaks to set it gently down.

“We don’t have jets like this up here,” he said. “That’s probably why they’re staring.” He waved out the window.

Or they thought she was a demon. They were waving back, so she didn't say it out loud, just cycled down the engines and stood, stretching. "Into the lion's den.”

Hasana held out her hand. “I’ll take you to Granny, and I’ll tell her not to be mean to you. Baba told Uncle Amandi to do that too, but I’m going to help.”

"Thank you, my love," Okoye said sincerely. "I feel much better with you beside me.”

“I will protect you. Even though Baba wouldn’t let me bring my spear.”

She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, "It's okay, I have mine.”

The ramp opened, letting in a blast of cold air. So cold that for the first time in her life she almost wished she had a hat. She might have flinched a little, because Hasana squeezed her hand and gave her a little tug. Okoye smiled at her and fell into step next to Idi in walking down the ramp.

People rushed forward, and Idi got in front of them to greet them. Everyone was talking over each other, in a Jabari dialect that was hard to understand, particularly at speed. Someone called to Hasana, and she went cautiously forward. Three women broke off, all heading toward her with their arms out like there would be a group hug—or a tussle. Hasana froze, and then scrambled back to the ramp to hide behind Okoye. 

Idi turned around. “Hey! What part of ‘don’t bum rush’ was I not clear on?”

"She's still sensitive about that?" one of the women asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he said. He sighed. “Everyone, this Okoye. We can make the rest of the introductions inside. Where it is warm.” He came back to them, and she could see the apology in his eyes. He picked up Hasana, who buried her face in his neck, and looked like he was marching into battle. 

On the walk to the house, the same woman—white haired, she’d bet that was Granny—asked, “She can’t walk to the house herself?”

In two minutes, Okoye had learned a lot about why Idi had sold everything he owned and moved halfway across the country. She was also having a hard time not turning them all around and going home.

Instead, she followed them down the path, boots crunching in the snow. The air was noticeably thinner than it was at Gorilla city, but she was in good shape. As long as no one asked her to run a marathon she should be fine.

Once inside, the crowd felt even more oppressive. Okoye sympathized with poor Hasana wanting to hide.

She was introduced to his parents and all his sisters. The white haired woman was in fact his mother. His father was quiet and had a long-suffering, stoic look about him. That must be where Idi came from. She only understood half of what anyone said. 

Idi was trying to convince Hasana to say hello to her grandmother so Granny would stop asking, when the door opened again to let in wind, Amandi-the-idiot-brother and what looked to be at least fifteen children of various ages.

“Why are you all in the hallway?” was the first thing that he asked. He caught sight of Okoye and waved. “Hi General.”

She inclined her head. “Amandi."

“Hey, monkey,” he said to Hasana, holding out his fist for a bump. That he got one generated an annoyed noise from Granny. He grabbed Idi’s sleeve and tugged. “I’m taking the main attraction into the living room if anyone feels like following.”

The living room was, at least, much bigger.

Okoye found herself a good spot to sit, with a view of the exits and a wall at her back. Hasana managed to slip away from the group and climb into her lap while Idi greeted Amandi and the children he'd brought.

"It's very crowded, isn't it?" Okoye said quietly. Hasana nodded. "It's all right the need a little while to warm up," she assured the little girl, rubbing her back. "It's easier to control a battle once you've sized up the enemy.”

“Sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

"It's quite all right. You were surprised by their numbers.”

She sighed. “I wanted to be brave.”

Okoye kissed the top of her head. "I think you're very brave.”

“Even though I tried to hide?”

"There's no shame in a strategic retreat.”

Hasana took a deep breath. “Okay. I should hug Granny.”

"I will be right here if you need me.”

“I know,” she said, and offered a smile. Then she hopped up and marched off.

She was so busy watching Hasana go get a hug and be fussed over, she didn't notice the cluster of pre-teens who had come over to study her until one asked, "May I touch your head?"

Okoye glanced over at the boy, studying him a moment. "You may. Because you asked nicely.”

He came forward and rubbed the top of her head. “Your tattoos are cool. Doesn’t you head get cold?”

"Sometimes. Though where I live is warmer than this.”

“I wanted to shave my head, but my mother said my head would be cold.”

"Your mother is wise. Perhaps if you ever move to the lowlands you could try out the look.”

“Hasana and Uncle Idi say there’s all kinds of cool stuff down there.”

"There is," she agreed. "Hopefully, the train will be finished soon and you can come visit and see some.”

He shook his head. “Mama doesn’t like the lowlands. Plus I have goats I have to look after.”

"Mmm," Okoye said. "Goats do need a lot of work.” 

The boys proceeded to tell her about their goats—and were in fact surprised her family had them. They seemed to think all lowlanders lived packed in tall buildings with no spare ground. “I grew up on the border. It’s very rural, lots of livestock and traditional ways.” They were, in a way, more culturally similar to the Jabari than the River or Merchant or Mining Tribes.

That got her a semi-circle of silent stares. Then one asked, “You’re from the Border Tribe?”

"I am, yes," she replied, meeting the stares calmly.

The children exchanged looks. Then one of the girls leaned forward and whispered, “But you’re really nice.”

She smiled a little. "Many of the Border Tribe are nice, they were just lead astray by a poor leader. But if it makes you feel better, I am also a Dora, and we fought at the side of the true king. Your tribe saved us when all seemed lost.”

“You’re probably okay, then,” the boy who’d felt her head said. “We’ll keep you.”

"Why thank you, I appreciate that. I'm very fond of Idi.”

“I’m very fond of you, too,” he said, having just come up behind the kids. “Are they hassling you?”

"Not at all," she told him. "They're asking very good questions and telling me about their goats.”

“They’re mountain goats,” Idi said. “Technically different from your goats.” He gestured behind him. “They have a brunch spread in the dining room, if you’re hungry.”

She sold in one smooth motion. "I'm always hungry.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. We just got a new puppy on Friday and it's like having an infant. I lost track of my days.

Food was always good at family events. As long as people were eating, no one was causing problems. Idi allowed himself to relax, just a little bit.

“Look at how well she’s talking,” his mother said in the middle of the meal. “I knew she’d come around.”

Idi stabbed one of the potato pieces on his plate. Of course they were going to have _this_ discussion, in front of the whole family. When he’d moved to the lowlands, Hasana had been nearly five, and didn’t speak a single word. Mama had insisted it would all work itself out naturally, and liked to bring it up every time he was home. “It took a lot of work.”

"Some children are just late bloomers," she said, nodding wisely. "Are you going to be moving back, now that she's doing better?”

He looked at in askance. “I’m so impressed you managed to find an even more inappropriate topic to bring up.”

She sat up straighter. "I don't see how it's inappropriate.”

He didn’t look at Okoye. “Mama. I bring my girlfriend up to meet you and that seems like a good time to ask questions about my future? In front of everyone?”

Mama's gaze flickered briefly past him, probably at Okoye, before returning to him. "It was just a question," she said defensively.

“I know. It’s just one I prefer you ask me in private.” He was absolutely certain she would.

"Fine." She turned from him to look at his brother. "How was work today?"

Under the table, Okoye squeezed his hand. He exhaled and squeezed it back.

For most of the rest of the day, his mother picked around the edges of the topic. He didn’t want to discuss in front of Hasana or Okoye, so he dodged it as best he could. But it wasn’t going away, and so when the children managed to convince Okoye to come look at their goats—and take Hasana—he went and found Mama in the kitchen.

Might as well get it over with. “I’m not planning on moving back any time soon.” 

She peered at him in the way only she could. "And why not?”

“Because Hasana needs more help and support than is available up here.” Among other things. He didn’t know if he was going to have to talk about that, too.

"She seems to be doing just fine. She's even playing with the other kids.”

“For one, play is not school. For another, she’s having a very good day today. She’s been doing very well lately because her routine is stable, and I think. . . more of her needs are being met.” 

Mama crossed her arms. "What does that mean?”

“She’s having more experiences and being exposed to more things. She has peers, kids who are like her.” He sighed. “And someone to braid her hair on Sundays.”

“I noticed that. I thought she didn’t like having her hair braided. She wouldn’t ever let me do it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because you smack her on the head with the comb when she wiggles.” Okoye just let her up to run around when she wanted. Sometimes it took all day to get the braids in. Sometimes Hasana went to school half braids, half fro. Which would probably horrify his mother.

“I did that with all your sisters,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, I know. But that is a point I have been trying to make for five years. She isn’t like them. Or any of their kids.”

"Children are children. Are you telling me some stiff, cold, border tribe is a better for her than your family would be?”

It took him a moment to parse that, and then he thought he’d laugh if it had pissed him off less. These days he found it baffling people found her cold. “Yes, I am. Hasana loves her. And needs a mother.”

"Are you thinking of marrying this woman?”

“Not that it’s your business, but it’s certainly on the table.”

"How is who you marry not my business? You're my son.”

“And when something is certain, I will tell you. My private thoughts are just that.” He leaned against the table. “And before you get upset about Arrangements and bad luck, we did not just meet on the street. The King introduced us.” That was not, technically, a lie.

She huffed, probably in frustration at having no argument to that. "So I've lost you for good is what you're saying.”

He sighed again. “Mama. You haven’t lost me. I will still visit. They’re building a train—which, I want to mention got funding prioritization party because you granddaughter talked the Queen’s ear off about it. Hasana loves you and everyone here. But I can tell you we’re far more likely to visit if you make Okoye feel welcome than if you don’t.”

"Well, I don't know what I think of her yet. She's barely said ten words.”

“Hasana and I love her. That should be enough.”

She frowned, then turned away to putter with things on the counter. "We'll see.”

That was probably the best he was going to get. But he could help himself from adding, “You know she saved the Chief’s life, right? He let me bring down Jabari Wood to build her something.”

Her hands paused. "That's good to know.”

“I am happier than I have been in a long time. Since before Kesi died.”

After a pause, she said gently, "I do want you to be happy, Idi.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s been a tough couple of years.”

"I know it has. I'm sorry we could not be more help.”

Before he could reply—because that was a pretty complicated issue—Hasana came running into the kitchen. “Baba! I was looking for you. The King showed up on Okoye’s beads as said she had to come back.”

Idi looked up at his mother, “Sounds like we may have to go early.”

Her mouth twisted into an annoyed little moue, but she nodded. "Say your goodbyes.”

He went and gave her a hug. “We’ll be back soon. Apparently I have access to a jet now.”

"I suppose she comes with _some_ perks.”

He went and found Okoye in the living room. “National emergency?”

“No, the baby is just on its way. It will likely be many hours but it’s important I be there in case it’s not. The snow is picking up outside and I can’t risk being stuck up here. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’ll go say goodbye.”

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I'll get Hasana and bundle up.”

His sisters fussed and his father—a quiet man if ever there was one—apologized for his mother. Amandi insisted on walking them out.

Okoye walked ahead, carrying Hasana and telling her she'd get to stay in the palace tonight since the Queen was giving birth. Idi hung back with his brother. "I'll work on mom," Amandi said. "It could have gone worse.”

“Well, it can always be worse.” Idi turned towards him. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome. It's good to see you happy.”

He chuckled. “I really, really am.” He gave his brother a hug. “I’ll see you.”

He slammed him on the back. "Be safe.”

Idi climbed onto the jet and Okoye raised the gate. He sat and rubbed his eyes as they took off. 

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly once they were out of the mountains.

He got up to go stand next to her. He liked watching her fly. “It was a long day.”

"How much did your mother hate me?”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just. . . has a lot of prejudices and is very set in her ways. Some of it is cultural. Jabari don’t like change. She’s still mad at me for moving to the lowlands.”

Okoye tipped her head back to look at him. "You know, somehow I sensed that.”

He looked out at the countryside flying by. “I was late to start talking, as a baby. Apparently so was my father. Kesi thought there was something different about Hasana, from a pretty young age. I blamed it on my genes. Then I blamed shock and trauma and grief. But she was getting old enough to start school, and still didn’t talk. She’d have these wild meltdowns, worse than you’ve seen and ten times a day. She was so frustrated and miserable.” He glanced back at his daughter, happily immersed in a video game. “Her IQ, as it turns out, is in the top 0.5 percent for the population. Can you imagine being that smart and not being able to communicate? I’d bang my head and pull my hair out, too. My mother thought she just needed more time, and better discipline.”

"I suppose in the old days, that's what children like Hasana got," Okoye said grimly.

“That is the Jabari way. How you are made is how you should be. To do otherwise is defying Hanauman. But it just. . . didn’t sit right. I knew I wouldn’t get much by way of resources up here, not even in Gorilla City. So I had to go.”

"And she has thrived." She glanced back at him again. "For what it's worth, I think it was the right decision.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I agree. She’s absolutely blossomed. I keep hoping my family will see that.”

"Someday, they might. For now, at least you're not facing them alone anymore.”

That made him smile. “There’s a lot of things I’m not facing alone anymore.”

"Me too," she said quietly. "It's nice.”

It occurred to him, standing there, that he hadn’t told her loved her. Though he probably should, consider that he’d told his mother. And they’d had a frank conversation about having children. But that didn’t seem like the kind of thing you should say for the first time while someone was flying an airplane.

They were landing anyway, setting down on the palace’s tarmac.

"I should go to Nakia right away," she said. "Can you find our rooms all right?”

“No problem,” he said. It was odd to have free roam of the palace, but there it was.

She kissed him, then Hasan's cheek. "I will see you later.”

*

Most Wakandan women delivered their babies in birthing centers attached to hospitals should there be an emergency, though many women in the Border Tribe gave birth with only local midwives—Okoye herself had been born at home. 

Nakia did not want to cripple a hospital with the disruption and security demands that she would bring, but her own mother had had such trouble having her no one felt safe without immediate medical assistance available, so space was built. The palace now had its own operating room, staffed and waiting. A birthing room had been built as well. Okoye had assumed it would have a bed, but it was instead dominated by a large tub—really more of a pool. You could get half a dozen people in there.

“One day we’ll turn it into a spa,” T’Challa said. He was sitting on the side dangling his feet in. Nakia was floating in the middle in a bikini like she was on vacation. He gestured at his wife, and said only, “The River Tribe,” in explanation.

"They are a strange people," she commented.

“You don’t have to get in,” Nakia said with a laugh. She was holding on to T’Challa’s ankle to help herself float, one of those quiet intimate gestures that Okoye used to look away from.

“My sister is on her way,” he said. “Not sure if she’ll make it.”

“He’s not accepting how long this will take,” Nakia said. “Sorry to call you back, we probably had time.”

"It's all right. The air there was a bit tense. It was nice to have an independent reason for leaving.”

“That bad?” Nakia patted her husband’s leg. “Can you go find me a snack?”

He absolutely could, and usually would, send someone for that. But it had been an excuse to ask him to give them a moment, and he clearly understood, nodding and climbing up like it was normal for a King to wander down to the kitchen for cookies.

"I'm picturing him running into Idi and Hasana getting their own snack, and it's hilarious." Okoye crouched down, then sat on the edge of the tub. "I could have been much, much worse. Most of the extraneous family was fine. Not exactly arms-thrown-open welcoming, but polite enough. His mother, however, is a tough nut to crack.”

Nakia closed her eyes and held up a finger and closed her eyes, breathing deeply for a moment. Wakandan women were encouraged to make noise during labor. It was a warrior task, and battle involved yelling. But Nakia was a spy. She could probably stay silent through an unmedicated amputation. When it had passed, she said, “You’re the seductress who is keeping her baby in the lowlands?”

"I think I'm more an evil Border tribeswoman keeping him here at the point of my spear. But the fight over him moving back pre-dates me. She doesn't seem to realize that Hasana needs the support she gets down here. Children are as they are and she'll just 'catch up' with more discipline.”

“I know the Jabari are serious about discipline. You see how well behaved M’Baku’s children are. His wife says it’s how harsh the environment is. There’s not a lot of margin for error.” She gestured at the door. “He was so upset when she broke that vase. I don’t think he believed me when I shrugged and said children break things.”

"He fretted about that for a few days," Okoye admitted. "Their ways are different, and for the most part I think it's good. You can't have a toddler wandering off into the snow and over a cliff. But they resist change so strongly - especially in the more remote places like his family's home - that I think it's going to back fire on them. I met several of his nieces, nephews, and young cousins who would like to visit the low lands or move here and their parents all say it's impossible.”

She paused for another contraction. “It’ll take time. But in a couple of years when the train is built, more people will be going back and forth.”

It was possible they were pinning a little too much hope on that train, but Okoye didn't say that out loud. It would be a massive change, and might give hope to those who wanted a life down here. "In any case, it didn't go as disastrously bad as I'd feared.”

“That’s probably the best you can hope for.”

"Yes. Hopefully it can only get better.”

There was a knock, and the door opened. T’Challa came back in with snacks and the doctor. They told Okoye she could go check on Idi and Hasana. It turned out someone had directed them to the palace swimming pools, and they were having fun. Today was clearly a water-focused day.

Nakia’s labor went on many hours—as everyone said was normal. She got in and out of her pool. Okoye came and went, having dinner with Idi and Hasana, and then going back so T’Challa could tend to some business. She returned to tuck Hasana in bed, and later to get a little sleep herself. In the middle of the night, her beads woke her, not for the delivery but because Princess Shuri’s plane had arrived. She went with the Queen Mother to meet it.

They were barely inside before Shuri asked, “So I hear you have a man?”

"I do," she said, because it was pointless to demur. "He's a Jabari, with a little girl.”

“I heard that part, too. My brother says she’s really smart and I should meet her.”

"I agree with that. You'll get along famously.”

Shuri nodded. “After we do this baby thing, I’ll be happy to.”

"Deal. Do you want to come check on Nakia with me? Or try to get some rest.”

“I slept on the plane, it’s the middle of the day on California time.”

Okoye nodded. "Come on then. She has a hot tub set up and has been floating on and off all day.”

When they got there, yelling had commenced, which indicated Shuri had apparently arrived just in time. Jala, Nakia’s mother, had been in the water with her when Okoye left, but was now on one of the perimeter chairs. Okoye went over to her, and she smiled. “She told me this was not a military unit and then ordered me out of the pool.”

"She did say we'd have to fight for General duties.”

“She does better without orders. I like yes and no and right and wrong. She likes the fuzzy gray middle.”

Nakia’s shades of gray had saved the King, and the country. Okoye’s black and white had stopped the battle that might have become a civil war. W’Kabi had told her, the last time she saw him, that she was the only person on earth he’d have put his sword down for. Neither of them would have won without the other.

"The world needs both," she told Jala. "Though I don't think the baby will care about orders right now.”

She chuckled. “Babies never do.”

It was another hour, and the yelling reached a level Okoye would best describe as battle-worthy. The baby was born right in the water. You couldn’t see much, which was probably for the best. Okoye had never been to a birth before, and didn’t need graphic details. But it did seem like a miracle of some kind seeing T’Challa lift this tiny, brand new—and very angry—person out of the water.

He and Nakia fussed over her a moment, then he held her out for Okoye to hold. She had a towel ready, which she wrapped around the baby before holding her to her chest. "Hello, little one.”

Done crying, the baby made a little contented noise and yawned. Okoye grinned. “Aww."

“I think she likes you,” T’Challa said. “For some reason.”

"I'm very likable," she informed him tartly.

Shuri was hovering at her side, and she could feel the grandmothers waiting behind them. “Can I hold her?” Shuri asked.

Okoye looked at the tub and got a nod from Nakia, so she reluctantly handed her over. She would certainly get many opportunities to hold her again.

It was so late it was nearly morning when she finally went back to her palace rooms. It was dark and quiet in there and she tiptoed in to crawl into bed. Idi was a very light sleeper, so she wasn’t surprised when stirred and rolled over. “Mmm. Baby?”

"Baby," she confirmed. "Lovely little girl, just over eight pounds. Made her appearance at five am.”

He smiled. “How loud is the clock ticking now?”

"Mmm, it's being drowned out by fatigue. Ask me again in the morning.”

He pulled her close and tucked her against his chest. “Thank you for today. Yesterday. Whichever it is.”

"You're welcome." She was too tired to figure out what day it had been. "I'll go into battle for you any time.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

She froze for a few heartbeats, surprised, though she really shouldn't have been. Mostly it was shock that, while this was the first time he had said it, she had already known it, deep in her heart.

Squeezing his arm she whispered, "Love you back.”


	12. Chapter 12

Hasana woke up early and Idi took her down to the swimming pool and then to the gardens to run around so Okoye could sleep. It was coming back from their walk that they met Princess Shuri, who had come looking for Hasana. Which is how he ended up, an hour later, in her lab somewhere in the bowels of the Great Mountain watching his daughter learn how to use vibranium sand tables.

Okoye found him there, leaning on the table next to him as they watched the girls with their heads bent together. "I knew they'd get along.”

“It occurs to me,” he said. “That this is another point in staying down here.”

"Hobnobbing with royalty?”

“It opens up tremendous opportunities."

She nodded. "Indeed, it does. The royal family is always generous with their friends.”

“You mentioned a while back you might have some resources to find Hasana a better nanny?”

"Nakia has a list compiled," she said without missing a beat.

She was the most efficient person he’d ever met. “Thank you. I’d be very interested in that.”

"I'll make sure we get it before we leave.”

He put his arm around her. Hasana was building some sort of mechanical elephant. “How are you?”

"I'm very happy," she told him. "At this particular moment, everything is right in the world.”

Several weeks later, they journeyed to the River Province for Princess Kata to have her bathing ceremony. It was apparently the sort of thing that was enormous for ordinary people, but it seemed like the entire tribe had turned out for their Chief’s granddaughter.

Idi did not have to wade Hasana through the crowds, though, as they came in on the King’s jet with the Royal Family. From departing the palace until being dipped in the river, it was Okoye’s job to carry the baby. Idi watched her, and thought it was honestly the most beautiful thing in the world.

She stood with the King and Queen, bouncing Kata and patting her back as the River Tribe priestess said the proper prayers. Then she waded into the river with the baby and gently dipped her in the water, earning an outraged shriek from the princess. 

There were more prayers, and then the baby was finally brought to her parents. The solemn ceremony turned quickly into a party. 

Okoye made her way over to them, wet dress clinging to her legs. "That was a new experience.”

“Your skirt got all wet!” Hasana said.

"It did. I think it will dry quickly, though.”

Idi reached out to hug her. “You were excellent at your baby carrying.”

"Thank you." She tipped her head back to accept a kiss, giving him a little squeeze. "Do Jabari have any unpleasant baby greeting ceremonies I should know about?”

It made him inordinately pleased that she’d asked that. “There’s a standard meet-the-community naming ceremony, but it is indoors. We don’t roll them in the snow or anything.”

"Indoors is acceptable.”

“The, uh. . .the birth thing is kind of a big deal. Tradition considers the person who catches the baby legally and morally responsible for it. It’s modernizing somewhat in the city, and _most_ people consider doctors an exception. But women in rural areas and very old-fashioned families have died refusing surgical birth.”

She arched a brow. "How about I give birth down here and we tell your family you caught it.”

He laughed. “Well, I think the first part would happen pretty definitely. But if there are no complications, I would like to.”

“Are you having a baby?” Hasana asked. The one time in the history of the world she was paying attention.

"Not currently," Okoye said. "But it's possible we might someday and it's good to make sure every one is on the same page ahead of time." She looked back at Idi. "Fine, but I'm not doing it in a tub.”

“We are in full agreement on that. Much as my people love their hot tubs, I’ve never heard of anyone giving birth in one.”

“Can I have a little sister?” Hasana asked.

“We’ll see,” Idi told her.

Okoye smiled and kissed him. "Want to see if she'll eat any of the food?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath, but I’m hungry.”

"I'm feeling optimistic," she said, tugging his arm.

To his amazement, she did manage to get Hasana to eat something new. Granted, it was a fried pastry coated in sugar, but it was new. 

They feasted and danced until the sun hung low in the sky and it was time to fly back to the palace with a very sleepy Hasana. Okoye needed to feed her cats, so they went home to her apartment. The gist of the debate was do that or stay at the palace. No thought was given to anyone going home separately.

“Something I was thinking about,” he said, after they’d tucked Hasana in bed and taken their drinks out on the balcony.

"Do tell.”

“When was the last time we slept apart?”

She tilted her head, considering. "Probably before we made the room here for Hasana.”

“We shuffle between three apartments. It’s kind of tiring.”

"You are welcome to move in. Or we could look for somewhere new together.”

“No, no, I love this place. And someone made you a really nice cat tree.” 

"It's true." She glanced over her shoulder at the tree. "I would hate to leave.”

“I do want to bring my furniture, though. It’s better.”

She laughed. "All right.”

Hasana was delighted, and the move was fairly simple. Idi had intended to hire movers, but Okoye had some of the young Dora trainees come do it. Apparently that was a perk.

She ended up encouraging him to cut back his work hours instead of finding a nanny, so he only worked during school hours. She out-earned him by several orders of magnitude so it wasn’t a big dent in the budget. He did still go into his shop in his free time when he could. He was making them a bed.

Of course, if he wanted Jabari wood in it, he would have to go back home. He couldn’t go back home without visiting his family.

After some debate, he decided to take Hasana up with him while Okoye was away with the King. He told his parents if they wanted to see them they could come to Gorilla City, but he was only in town for the day. 

Amandi lived in the city, and volunteered to watch Hasana while he had his meeting with the Chief. Who thankfully was fond of Okoye, and kept a special watch on Idi and Hasana. Kesi had been one of only a few Jabari who had actually died during the battle, and Idi knew that weighed on him. So he was happy to let Idi take more wood.

“You know, a few years ago, I would have said this whole intermixing thing was a terrible idea,” M’Baku told him.

“I’d have agreed with you,” Idi said, because it was true.

“There certainly have been others, but you are. . . very prominent. She’s not just an average lowlander.”

“Yes, we have gotten a taste of that. I promise not to turn my relationship into a diplomatic incident.”

M'Baku waved a hand. "You're both sensible people. I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyway, now I think it’s a good thing.” He tilted his head like he was thinking about something. “Something we could use more of.”

Idi dipped his head. “Thank you. And thank you for your time.” He wanted to back away before got somehow roped into being involved with an inter-tribe dating service, or whatever he was thinking of.

"Of course. Of course. Enjoy your new bed.”

After a detour to order his wood, Idi went back to his brother’s house, and found his parents had come down. He was almost surprised—they didn’t come off the mountain much.

Amandi gave a shrug when their gazes met. His mother looked up and smiled. "Hello, Idi. Did you meeting go well?”

“It did, thank you. Got my wood.” He smiled back. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it down.”

"We'd been discussing coming into the City for some supplies. Seems a good time to do it, see you and the little ones. Hasana was telling me about seeing the princess get dunked in the river." Mama's expression softened a little. "She was very animated. Talking about it.”

He smiled back. “She enjoyed it quite a lot. That is the tradition of the River Tribe, and then there is a big party.”

"It's good. For her. To have new experiences like that." Her inflection made it almost a question.

“It is,” he said quietly. “I have. . . had to work less of late, and so can take her for more enrichment activities.” 

She pursed her lips. "The lowlander's taking care of you?”

Before he could reply, from the other side of the living room, his father said, “Glory to Hanauman, woman, she has a name.”

Amandi snorted and coughed to hide a laugh.

Mama glared at both of them before looking back to Idi. "How is Okoye?”

“Very well, she’s traveling with the King, or she’d have come along.”

She nodded slowly and her lips pursed again as if she were searching for something to say. 

“If we’re done with the small talk,” Baba said, “Can we discuss the goats?”

Idi blinked. “Goats? Why?”

His father got up and came to a closer chair. “I was concerned they would get eaten, but Hasana assures me her family raises them for milk.”

“Her mother makes cheese and soap.” He leaned back, realization dawning. “Wait, you’re talking about the livestock exchange.” He didn’t dare look at his mother, who was likely in the midst of having some sort of seizure. 

"Of course. I've heard good things about lowland stock. It'd do both the herds good to get some new blood in them." He waved a hand. "And get you married off, of course." Like he was a spinster sister draining the family's resources.

Idi scratched his head. “You know, we’re not technically. . .”

“You live with her. I admit I have never done this without an Arrangement, but that does indicate to me I should talk to her people. Logistics are going to be a handful.” He gestured at Idi’s wrist. “Should get some of those bead things.”

You could have knocked Idi over with a feather. “I. . .will make that happen.”

His mother had been sitting silently, but now spoke up. "I don't know what her traditions are, but maybe we could find a neutral place to hold the ceremony." Everyone turned to look at her. "Not Jabari Land or the Border.”

“We live in the capital city,” Idi said. “I’m sure there are lots of nice places.”

She nodded and crossed her arms, apparently appeased. Idi looked over at Amandi, who shrugged elaborately.

“All right,” Idi said finally. “I will let you know when it is official. Please do not make any plans until then." 

"You haven't even asked?" Baba asked. "The hell are you waiting for?”

Idi laughed. “The right time. I will tell you when there is something to know, and then you can talk to her mother about goats.”

"Well, hurry up, I'm not getting any younger.”

*

“I’ve been meaning to mention, we’re going to be having some interns.”

Okoye was flying the jet, and so didn’t look over at T’Challa. Though she wanted to, just to make a face. “Interns?”

“Shuri is bringing them from the US to study in Wakanda during their summer break.”

Now she had to look, just for a second. His face looked serious. “You’re bringing Americans. Here.”

“Shuri is. They’re from the Outreach Center. To study science. I’m warning you in advance so you can figure out whatever security measures you need.” 

"By the goddess," she muttered. "How much time do I have?”

“Several months,” he replied. “I’ll put her in touch with you.”

His assistant would know. For the moment she focused on setting the jet down. Nakia was out there waiting for them, baby tucked against her shoulder.

T'Challa reached her and wrapped them both in his arms. "Hello, my loves.”

Okoye waited with the line of guards that she always had whenever he travelled. When he put his arm around his wife and they headed in, the Dora followed. She was just about to return to her office when he called out, “I’m going to retire early with my family, feel free to do the same.”

Family. It had been a very long time since she'd had a family waiting for her at home.

Turning on her heel, she headed for the doors, deciding to take his advice. Of course, Idi turned out to not be home, so she had to make her way down to his workshop, where his beads said he was. 

Hasana was sitting at one of the tables drawing, and leapt up to come hug her. She could see Idi deeper in the workshop, carving into a large block of wood with a laser.

"Hello my little one," Okoye said, scooping her up and leaning her on her hip. "What is Baba making?”

“He’s making a bed. We went up to see Granny and Bebe and Uncle Amandi. Baba got a bunch of wood from the chief. Bebe wants to give you goats, but you can’t eat them.” 

She blinked, processing that. "If your grandfather gives me goats, I will not eat them.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “Baba made a new sculpture, too. He told Uncle Amandi he’s happy he as more time for art.”

"So am I, I love your Baba's art.”

“You want to come see it?”

"Yes. Show me the way.” Hasana wiggled to be put down, and then took her by the hand and lead her past a bunch of dining chairs held together by clamps, and a row of fireplace mantles, until she saw it. It was like the one that hung from the ceiling, loops of wood carved to look almost like vines, wrapping around and through each other until you couldn’t tell where anything went, but could spend hours following the paths. This one was tall and slender, wrapping it’s way upwards from a base on the ground.

“There you guys are,” Idi said from behind them.

"Hasana was showing me your new artwork." Okoye turned to look at him. "It's beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Though I have actually been working on this one for a while.”

"Is it finished?”

He studied it. “Almost.” He looked down at her. “I’ve been thinking about doing a little less furniture and a little more sculpture. Maybe sell some of it.”

"I think it's a great idea." She looked up at him. "If that's what you want.”

Idi shrugged. “It’s worth a try.” He gestured at the sculpture. “I mean, not that one. But some.”

"Is that one also personal?”

“It most certainly is.” He reached out to touch it. “This is meru oak,” he said after a moment. “Grows on the border.” 

"Oh," she said softly, running a hand along a vine. "I've never seen it like this.”

“It is known to be difficult to work, but worth the effort.”

She smiled. "Sounds familiar.”

“Can we go get dinner,” Hasana piped up. “I’m hungry.”

"I'm ready if Baba is.”

He put his arm around her. “I am. Let’s go find a restaurant and I will tell you all about my visit home.”

"I can't wait. I hear there was talk of goats.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, uh, didn’t know she’d heard that part.”

"I think she hears a lot more than we think.”

“She promised not to eat them,” Hasana said cheerfully, and Idi put his hand over his face.

Okoye grinned and tugged him forward. "Come I'll buy you dinner.”

“Well, in that case, let’s find a nice restaurant.”

"Oh, I see how it is. You're using me for my money and fame.”

He laughed. “That, and other things not fit for mixed company.”

She tilted her head, pretending to think it over. "I suppose I can live with that.”

Idi let her pick the restaurant, because he didn’t eat out much. They got a quiet booth, and Hasana busied herself with coloring. “My mother seems to be warming up.”

Her brows arched before she could stop herself. "Really? How so?”

“She seems understanding and accepting. My father seems to actively like you. You probably didn’t talk to him because he doesn’t talk to strangers, but he start with the whole. . .goat thing.”

"So. Does the goat thing mean up there what it means down here?”

“It doesn’t have to be goats. But, yes, an exchange of livestock is traditional—” He sighed. “They’re trying. They don’t really know what to do with a relationship that wasn’t arranged. Consider it a sign of welcome.”

"My mother would be quite pleased with some new goats.”

“My father actually wants Kimoyo beads, so he can talk to your mother. I insisted he let me talk to you first. But I also still can’t get over him being willing to wear vibranium.”

"T'Challa did remark he hoped our relationship would be a bridge between the gap between the lowlands and the mountain. I think he was being facetious though.”

“M’Baku told me there should be more intermixing.”

"I didn't used to think so." She gave him a sly smile. "But certain events have swayed me."

He grinned. “Glad I could be of use.” He paused, the said, "My brother actually had a suggestion that might be a good idea.”

"Do tell.”

“In my tribe, before an Arrangement is formalized, the couple goes off to spend a week together alone. And it occurs to me, we’ve never really had so much as a night alone.”

Okoye resisted glancing at Hasana. "That's true, we haven't. But. . . is there anyone you trust to watch her for a week?”

“Amandi and his wife volunteered. She likes her cousins and I think they’ll have a good time. Though he did even say he’d come down here if needs be.”

"That's very sweet of them." She reached for the basket in the middle of the table to pull out some bread. "Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been on vacation before.”

She paused in dipping her bread in sauce. "Not ever?”

“There was never time, or funds, and once there was, Hasana wouldn’t have tolerated it.”

"Well, then. We'll have to make it special.”

“You may have noticed I am really not very good at romantic things. At all.”

"Such a pity. Because romance is so high on my list of important things in a partner.”

He took a piece of bread and shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be high for the lack to bother you at some point.”

She considered that a moment. "I don't need romance. I need patience and respect. Someone who can have a civil conversation with me about difficult topics. Someone who understands my job is important and that sometimes compromise is necessary. Everything I've seen of you suggests you have these traits.”

“Hasana has taught me a lot about compromise and negotiation.”

"Indeed. I've learned a thing or two myself.”

“Well, I like romance,” Hasana piped up. “You should send her flowers.” She paused. “Just not any of the ones that smell.” She looked over at Okoye seriously. “I’ll work on him.”

"I have faith in your tutelage," Okoye told her solemnly.

“And he made you a sculpture. I think that counts.”

Idi cleared his throat. “That’s not technically _for_ you,” he said. He looked oddly embarrassed. “Just. . .about you.”

"I think she's right though. It does count.”

“The wood helps me figure out my feelings,” he said quietly.

"I understand. It must be a type of meditation." She reached over and covered his hand with hers.

He turned his to lace their fingers. “So. Vacation?”

"Yes. Do you want to stay in Wakanda?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “I haven’t seen the country, really—coming down here was my first time off the mountain. I don’t know if I’m ready for international travel.”

She nodded. "I'll do a little research and let you know out options.”


End file.
